“If you had a time machine when would you go?” I asked M, hoping he’d give me a good idea for tonight’s blog post.
“Euhhhh. The twenties, and… and… nope, just the twenties.” I don’t even have to ask. I know it’s got something to do with Jazz. No help there. “Why?” He asks.
“It’s the topic for this week’s Sunday Scribblings and I’ve got nothing. Zip, nada, nuttin’. I have a few fiction ideas that I could hammer out, but nothing great, nothing I’m really inspired to write.”
“Well, is there a time in your past you’d want to revisit?”
“Urg. No. My past was fine, but nothing I’d want to relive.”
“What? No time you’d want to go back to so you could change something?”
I think for a minute. Sure, I’ve made some iffy decisions over the years, but everything seems to have worked out for the best. I wouldn’t want to risk changing the present. What if choosing a different course one day way back in college changed the course of my life forever? Who knows; I could be married to a cold insensitive French man, and be a mother to three towheaded boys.
I close my eyes for a moment and think about my two blond girls, sleeping soundly in their beds after a long day of playing hard at the beach. The living room is cluttered with toys I need to pick up. The laundry has taken over most of our bed room. The kitchen is littered with cheerios and crayons. And the windows haven’t been washed, well, frankly since we moved in over four years ago. I wouldn’t want to change any of it for all the money in the world.
“Nope. Nothing I’d want to change, not then, not now.” I look over at M. “I don’t need a time machine. I’m exactly when and where I want to be.”