About: Time Travel

I’m 32.  It’s quiet for a change.  I’m typing…thinking…breathing…closing my eyes…

I’m three.  I just met Mickey Mouse for the first time.  I was scared.  Perhaps the physical manifestation of the character I loved so much on the television was more than my young mind was able to process.  I cried.  Mickey’s facial expression never changed. 

I’m 21.  The limo pulls up to my house unexpected.  All those that had gathered for the celebration of this arbitrary day pile in, and we’re off to the steakhouse of my choice.  I’m excited for this milestone, as most are I imagine.  Good friends, good family, good food, good life.  The limo driver drops the adults off at their final destination, and the kidults set out for a night of…whatever.  Good friends, good times, good life.

But I’m 32.  There’s a movie on…but I’m not watching it.  There’s always background noise required, I have to fill the silence.  I blink…

I’m inside the womb.  The woman that’s carrying me makes one of the hardest decisions of her life, and thus sets in motion the greatest gift two people desperate to raise a child they can call their own will ever know.  Four lives are forever changed. 

I’m 15.  We win the lottery.  I’m going to south Florida to watch the team I love desperately compete in the biggest game they will ever take part in.  I’m sick…sicker than sick…at the most inopportune time of my life.  I press on, ignoring the pain and discomfort as only a young man on a journey of passion can do.  I have no concept of the financial sacrifices that have been made to put me in this position, all I know is I’m here…I’ve made it…I’ll never forget these moments, this trip, this day.  49 – 26 is the outcome, not surprising at all in retrospect.  Oh well…this is just the beginning, right?  There will be many more games of this magnitude to attend down the line…this is only the beginning…right?

But I’m 32!  Life has changed so much these past three years.  So many adjustments…so much change.  Good change, don’t get me wrong…but change nonetheless.  Change is always hard for me.  My eyes are getting heavy…

I’m five.  It’s the holiday season…so why is everyone crying?  I can’t figure it out…I’m not sure what’s going on, but I can tell it’s not good.  Something’s changed.  Something’s missing.  We’re all in nice clothes, Sunday’s best.  The little girl next to me?...she’s five too.  I put my arm around her, I want to make her smile…I want to make her feel better.  I love her so much, even at five I know that…and the little tiny girl in her mama’s arms over there?  I know I love her too…even at five, I know I’ll always love her too.  I just want everyone to be happy again.  I don’t really know what’s going on, but I know something’s changed.  Something’s missing.

I’m 36.  The past six years have been a blur.  The little girl waiting by the front door is six years old.  Yesterday, she was opening her eyes for the very first time, today she’s  going to school for the first time.  She’s excited…no fear in this child.  She’s ready to greet the world with open arms…she loves everyone.  I know everyone will love her too, there’s no doubt.  None.  I hope everyone will love her too…I hope.  I’ve taught her the importance of friends.  She’s seen how much daddy’s friends have meant to him.  He’s told her countless times that he’s practically known them since he was her age.  She listens to daddy…he still knows what he’s talking about.  Still two more years before her sister has her first day of school.  Two long years.  Must…not…blink.

No…I’m 32.  Everyone is sleeping.  I wake up early, I go to work, I come home, I go to bed…lather, rinse, repeat.  Over, and over, and over.  Monotony…safety…comfort…frustration.  Up, out, back, bed…

I’m six.  I’m rocking a beautiful lunch pail with a thermos inside.  It’s time to make the 26 mile trek to “The Box”.  The first trip “down the hill” of a lifetime of trips “down the hill”.  Mom and dad look happy…proud (sad?).  I’m about to meet a group of people that will change my life forever. 

I’m 60.  She’s 30, and she’s 28.  They’re both married…and I walked them both down the aisle.  I gave them away…but not really.  I didn’t tell them I was crossing my fingers and toes.  They’re still mine.  Fingers and toes will stand up in court to void any contract.  Their mother and I are still in love after all these years.  Our house is not as full of bodies as it once was, but it’s still full of all the love those bodies produced. 

I’m 32 I, I know it!!  I don’t feel it though.  Not at all, not ever.  So young by some standards, so old by others.  A baby in my parents eyes, an old man in the eyes of my daughters.  The movie in the background can’t capture my attention.  My thoughts drift…I’m 32, aren’t I?

I’m eight years old.  Nan and Pop are with me.  We’re at Sea World!  I’ve never been here before, and everything is amazing…a world I didn’t know existed.  It’s raining.  It’s raining hard.  We’re safe and dry under the cover of some restaurant.  I want to go.  I want to stay dry, but I want to go.  There, off in the distance…the next destination that offers cover.  If I run as fast as I can go, I’ll be relatively dry once I get there.  I make a bee-line without notice and without warning.  All that lies in the way, a tiny wall.  I can jump it…no worries.  I run and run, and jump as high as I can.  I clear the wall with no problem whatsoever…unless you consider landing knee deep in the tide pool exhibit on the other side a problem.

I’m 28 and I’ve never been this scared.  Breathing is becoming a challenge, breathe in, breathe out, breathe in…can’t remember what comes next.  I’m standing in front of a large group of people…no eyes on me, however.  They’re all looking at the girl.  I’m looking at the girl.  God sends rays of sunshine down through the cloudy February day to shine on the girl.  The ground is wet.  Please don’t fall.  She doesn’t.  I start that day alone…I leave that day never to be alone again.  The future is bright…the past the vehicle that delivered us to this day.

I’m 32, aren’t I?  But I close my eyes and I’m three, I’m 30, I’m not even born, I’m 60.  Time is not linear as I thought.  Time doesn’t exist.  Time is a tool we use to make sense of it all, to make sense of the “journey”.  Time is nothing but a map the mind uses to take us back to where we’ve been and ahead to where we want to go.  I blink and I’m young.  Blink again, and I’m old.  Again and I’m somewhere in between.  Time travel exists, and my eyelids are the machine.  I’m everything I ever was, everything I am, and everything I will become…and I’m 32, aren't I?