When I was a kid, it ranked right up there with Bilbo’s magic ring and the car from “Knight Rider,” topping off my Oh-The-Things-I-Could-Do-If-I-Just-Had-A-__ List.
And, honestly, the idea of a time machine hasn't lost its appeal.
Melody, my youngest, is captivated by it now, too.
It started recently. I’m not sure what sparked it. But she keeps pestering Tamara and me to make inquiries, ask our colleagues at work and everyone else if they know of a time machine we could acquire.
Her hope in this, she tells us, is to be able to fast-forward through certain parts of her week.
The fun things can stay. Dance class on Wednesdays. Friday movie night with the family. Church activities. She just wants to skip all the rest.
And, though we've encouraged her to try to have a better attitude about the less-fun stuff, we've admittedly enjoyed playing along.
We update her on our progress in the search. No leads yet, unfortunately, but we're still trying. And last weekend, we watched the “Back to the Future” trilogy together. (Artifact of the 1980s that it is, it holds up well, by the way.)
Time-machine fantasies, I’m noticing, change as you get older.
Oh sure, there are earlier epochs I’d still like to zoom off to and experience firsthand, the Old West, Victorian England, etc. I’d be sure to catch a baseball game, too. I'm thinking Yankee Stadium circa 1923, the year it opened.
But nowadays it’s the not-so-far-removed moments, those from my own life, I find myself wanting to revisit as well.
A lot of them involve the kids, of course. Birthdays, Christmases, family outings. The “Remember whens” seem to just keep piling up.
Short of a flux-capacitor-equipped DeLorean and the plutonium to fuel it, though, remembering those moments is all we can do.
But memories are enjoyable enough as they are.
I’m sure one day my wife will even ask, “Do you remember that time Mel wanted a time machine?”
I’m smiling at the memory already.
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