Thoughts on Time Travel

This is an entry from my journal from March 26, 2009.
The day which would have been mine and Lonai's forth wedding anniversary.

Today I have personally discovered that time travel is not possible, at least not with my whole body. I have found that I can no longer feel Lonai’s fingers in my hair, her warm arms around my shoulders and back, or her head burrowed into my chest. I can no longer smell the sweet scent of vanilla on her skin, or the wisp of coconut in her hair. I can no longer hear her soft whisper of “I love you” in my ear. I can no longer taste her gentle kiss on my lips. And most tragically, even in my mind I can no longer see her precious and smiling face.

In today’s attempts at time travel, I am sitting at the Grizzly Café where she worked, I drove by the church where we said our vows, the hall where we shared our first married dance and I drove out to Ball Flat where I asked her to date me, where we shared communion together, and then had our unforgettable first kiss. There I stood on the same spot and whispered her name, then I sat and thumbed through our wedding photos, all to no avail. My efforts could neither bring her to me nor bring me to her. It doesn’t hurt anymore, instead it is more like a wish, the type of wish where there is no chance of it coming true, but your heart can’t help but wish anyway. Perhaps the heart believes that is the only way it can stay connected to her. If that is true I hope it can wish until the end of my days on this earth.

Strangely, the only part of my body that can travel through time is the third finger of my left hand, which it does of its own free will, never abiding to reason or provocation. From time to time, it can feel the ghost metal of a ring I haven’t worn in three years. When it happens, I am always surprised and my heart rejoices. Though it has not yet occurred today, I can always wish…