The Time Machine

February 26th, 2014, 2pm

As I drove my son and daughter home it was eerily quiet. That type of quiet that’s unsettling, rather than soothing. I peeked over my shoulder at a red light and saw that my daughter had fallen asleep after forming a makeshift pillow out of her backpack and winter jacket. It was only an hour ago that I got the call from my wife. “Where are you,” she had asked, holding back a cough. She had just gotten a call from the Pre-K teacher. My daughter was sick and we needed to come pick her up.

As I was driving down FDR to the east village I made the decision to pick up my son as well. He would be getting out of school in 2 hours and it didn’t make sense to go back for him. He had after-school karate and was prepping for a test so I knew he wasn’t going to be happy about being dragged home early. I walked into his classroom and scanned the room but he was nowhere to be found. “He’s probably in the bathroom,” the teacher reassured me. Then my phone rang. It was the school nurse. My son was sick and I needed to come pick him up.

“Dad,” my son finally broke the silence. “When you were little there were no cell phones, right?”

“That’s right,” I said, peering through the rear-view mirror.

“So when I grow up there will be so many new things.”

“Things, right now, that we can’t even imagine,” I added. “And you’re going to be the one who makes those things.” He seemed to contemplate this for a moment.

“If I do make them, will you and mommy buy one?”

“We certainly will. We’ll even buy two.”

“Ok. Well, I’ll give you one for free.”

I thanked him and we continued our drive home in silence. He, in his fever-induced stage of delusion; me, marveling at the possibilities of owning two time machines.

Monica, Cyril, Lilian, Marco and 27 others said thanks.

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Johnny Strategy

スプタマ編集長。Editor of Born in Brooklyn, raised in Tokyo, now come full circle.

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