Looking back

Looking back

swing

I took my Time Machine back to visit my five-year-old self. The younger me was out back of the house, playing jacks on the concrete porch.

The younger me looked up, sighed, and said, “Oh, it’s you again.”

I said, “Hi, young Brooks. What’s up?”

The younger me said, “I don’t know.”

I said, “Do you want to know what I’ve been up to?”

The younger me said, “I don’t care.”

I said, “How can you say that? Aren’t you the least bit curious about your future?”

The younger me said, “Nope.”

I said, “Well, I’ll tell you anyway. I’ve been writing a new book. It’s about my life, actually. I mean, our life. I’m writing about everything, all the amazing stuff, and the crappy nutso shit. I’m not holding anything back. It feels like a relief to put it all down in words.”

The younger me said, “Are you doing it for a class, or something?”

I said, “No. I wanted to write it.”

The younger me said, “What? Why would you do that?!”

I said, “Well, I was inspired. And I was hoping I could interview you today and ask you about all the things I’ve forgotten from the early years. So what juicy tales have you got for me?”

The younger me thought about it and said, “This morning I had a bowl of Quisp Cereal. And then I went out to the backyard and got on the swing. After that I dug a hole in the ground and filled it with water. Do you wanna see?”

I said, “Sure” and I followed the earlier me to a small hole in the backyard. There was no water in it.

The younger me started to cry. I got out my notebook and pen and started writing this all down.

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