Turning back the clock.
It seemed so easy as my husband and I went through the many clocks that we have in our home and set them back the required hour. How I hated this time of year! Everyone said it meant that I would get an extra hour of sleep out of it, but they didn’t know a thing about my internal clock.
But then I started thinking. What if we could just keep turning the hands of time back, not just an hour, but days or especially years. Marty McFly did it, why can’t we?
Recently I had a brush with death. Well, it wasn’t really a brush at all really. It wasn’t like a near fatal car accident or that the doctors told me I had only had a couple months to live. It was more like the doctors wanted to do some tests just to check on a couple things. They told me they thought everything would probably be fine, but in my over analyze, worry about everything and imagine the worse case scenario head, it sounded like put your affairs in order, say goodbye to your friends and family because you have less than a year to live.
You can possibly understand why, when my husband and I were out on our walk on Halloween night and walked past the real spooky house with the eerie music and loud evil laughter, where the tall dark grim reaper walked around pointing to everyone to go inside, I had to cross the street and get away from him. (Well it may have quite possibly had more to do with that I am a wuss! I am the one who, when watching scary movies, is hiding under a blanket.) That grim reaper really freaked me out! Doesn’t matter that there were 5- and 6-year-olds walking nonchalantly up to the door asking for candy. Yeah, well I can go buy my own stinking candy you, you freakishly cute 5 year old devil and adorable little 6 year old witch!
There is a website you can go to called Deathclock.com that can calculate the exact date and time of your death. It told me I will be 85 years 9 months and 16 days old when I die. When my husband calculated his death, it said he was already dead (which would totally explain why he has been in his recliner, remote in hand, not moving, watching TV for hours. Hmm…perhaps I should go check on him).
Of course, there is no website, doctor or anyone that can actually predict a person’s exact time of death, but watching the seconds tick by on the death clock site, or having a doctor say “we’re just going to run some tests” makes you realize that time is ticking by and life is so short. None of us are getting any younger, and as I have already lived more than half of my life, the idea of turning back time and not just for one hour is very appealing.
Of course there are so many things I would love to call do-overs on.
Holding my babies again and whispering to them that I love them and all I care about is for them to be happy. That I would try to make better choices for them so their past would be something they could look back on fondly instead of causing them fear and anxiety.
Go back with confidence and walk up to that real cute guy I had a crush on and ask him out for a date to the dance.
Tell my mom, “I love you, but I choose not to live the life that you have chosen for me and am going to choose my own way,” and then actually move out and live that life, not wait until years later to do so.
Hugging my dad again and telling him that his unconditional love meant everything to me.
Last night, traveling back in time for one hour was possible. In reality, though, actual time travel only happens in the movies. There is no going back, only finding acceptance and moving on.
Now I want to hold my grown children and tell them I love them, and, more than anything in this world, want them to be happy. I want to tell them not to let past mistakes define who they are or what they can be.
I will walk up to the cute guy I now live with and have a crush on and ask him for that dance and will dance with him for the rest of our lives, however long that might be.
I will live my life as I choose and not one that someone else has chosen for me, but will always try and remember the good others have taught me.
And I will whisper, “I love you, Dad, thanks for the unconditional love,” and hope that somewhere, somehow he has heard me.