I don’t own a time machine. I’m technologically impaired; I’m afraid I might end up in The Land of The Lost, devoured by a T-Rex. I prefer the present. I ache for here and now. Just let me live, right here, far away from all the scary monsters of yesterday.
I don’t always have that choice. The smell of gasoline pulls me up. I float to a time and space. I am six again. My grandfather is working in the bike shop. The customers are laughing. I’m playing jacks on the secret porch behind the shop. The day is filled with city life. The air is a cross between fried pastries, smog, and shop chemicals. My mom and dad have another fight. We are hiding to escape my fathers wrath. He should cool down soon.
I’m not sure how many hours pass. I hear the door unlock .My husband arrives. I’m in my forties again.
” Hey sweetie how was your day?” He asks with a smile as
He kisses my forehead.
“Ok I guess.” I say all knotted up. I can’t speak of this day in 2015 because I left again. I don’t want to be vague. I have no memory of today. The rest of the evening I am here. I am with my husband. We eat; We laugh; We watch T. V. I take in all the wonderful sites of 2015.
There is freedom; There is choice; There is love, respect, and validation. We are not rich. Yet, I often feel like a millionaire. We live a simple life in a complicated world. Every day I am thankful for escaping my childhood. I made a promise as a kid when I get away, that’s it. I’m gone. I’m out of here. I will never be back.
I go to sleep. I am six again. I find myself on a different day, another season. My mom and dad are getting along. There is crying. Perhaps wailing is a better word. I just stare. Nothing makes sense. I hear a lot about keys, and follow the light. I’m locked outside with my two sisters. It’s winter. I’m cold. I want to know what’s going on.
Suddenly, I’m with my brother. We can’t park near grandfathers shop. Two roads are closed. We have a long walk which I mind. While grumbling I notice something strange. The snow has red streaks ; The site confuses me. This doesn’t look right.
“What’s that?” I ask my older brother.
“That’s our brother….that’s why we have to walk…the street is closed the entire street has his blood on it.”
“No…what… I don’t understand…Isn’t he sleeping?”
“Yes, sleeping means dead.” The reply terrifies me.
My six year old mind rattles. When I sleep can that happen to me? This might happen in my sleep? I’m never going to sleep again. I only know sleep as the kind that happens when you are tucked in bed. I can’t grasp anything else spoken. It’s all too much.
I am back. I see the whole conversation in my head. First, I am angry. Who takes a six year old to such a graphic site? Who answers a question that way? Clarity sets in. That thought is still lingering in my mind. I could be killed in my sleep. I get it now .It is old wall paper that needs peeled off . I recognize the Fearful thoughts keeping me up at night.
Wow, I can’t believe the impact of that one conversation . I replace that fear with the truth… This didn’t happen in his sleep. He died being at the wrong place, the wrong time. He is sleeping. I agree. believe that. He is not hurting. It is the sleep mentioned in the Bible, when Jesus referred to Lazzaurus, as sleeping, when he died. I will see him again in a better place. I feel comforted.
I’m able to sleep. The next day I wake up here and now. I have a day full of mundane chores. I’m happy. I am able to stick around long enough to be a normal person living in a day to day world. There are many memories waiting to emerge, each one giving me clarity…how I became me….a simple time traveler in a modern world.