The Future Is Now
By David DeWitt
Sometimes I feel as though Finn may be a little psychic.
Just as I’m beginning to think about the New Year, he is suddenly talking about building a time machine.
We were making breakfast. It had been declared “pancake day.” (He requests them most days even though we only make them one day a week.) Then out of nowhere he began talking about his plans for building a time machine.
“Where would you want to go?” I asked. “Back to the time when you were a baby?”
“No,” he said. “Back to the Ice Age!”
“Then you would be going alone,” I said. “Winters are cold enough for me right now.”
Is there anyone who doesn’t find the idea of time travel fascinating? I end up watching even bad movies that revolve around it.
New Year’s Eve is a time when we all step briefly into our own little time machines. Looking back, reliving moments of the last year, or attempting to peek into the future.
Setting our intentions.
Hoping they will stick this time.
Maybe pondering the things that we should leave behind.
There’s always a slight desire to go back and change something if not a number of things over the last year.
What will we do differently this year? What will we change?
Finn’s desire for time travel obviously springs from curiosity.
I think most of us would want to go back to change something, to make it better, like the movie Back to the Future.
There’s a little Marty McFly in all of us.
All the recent talk of secret government agencies and videos of UFOs in the news makes one think that perhaps time travel is not so far-fetched.
Who are they? Are they from the future? Returning at a crucial moment in our history to prevent us from making a devastating choice?
I would say they’re about a year late.
If there are aliens among us, what are they here to do? What would they change? Are they observing us and trying to decide how to be a part of all this? Are they contemplating getting involved in the world and the implications of that? Maybe they just don’t know what to do next.
It might be easier to just stay on the sidelines and observe, to hover around in their comfortable little space ships. That way they wouldn’t risk failure. Or they could just go back to where they came from.
Maybe they’re stuck, trying to figure out what to do with their lives.
Hmmm. Maybe they would fit right in.
“I know where I would go right now,” Finn said as he was stirring the batter.
“Where?” I asked.
“Right here, twenty minutes from now,” He said, “when the pancakes are done.”
David Dewitt is an artist, blogger, and painter who lives with his family in the Rondout Valley. For more, visit daviddewitt.com.