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If I could Turn Back Time.....

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On a quintessential Wednesday in April of 1968, Dr. King delivered one of the most pompous speeches to have ever been written in the history of oration. As marquee as it may seem, it was not just any rhetoric. It was about the advent of time.

       Even Cher sang:-
If I could turn back time
If I could find a way

I'd take back those words that hurt you

And you'd stay

I don't know why I did the things I did



In Dr. King's exhortation, I have found inspiration to pen another one. Another one of my boy musings.


So I was conversing with my guy (let's call him Joe) the other day. Although the junk of such a conversation was about football, he told me something that I figured could headline a tabloid like Life's Files.
So he opens up...

If I could turn back time, I'd go to the year 2005. Miniature feelings from childhood have overwhelmed my mind, my heart and my torso.  I am barely fourteen years of age and there's a girl in my grade that's taken over my mind completely. As far as I am concerned, she's the girl of my dreams and I am determined to love her till death do us apart. Her - an angel from a wondrous epiphany.  Calm in countenance. A cheesy smile that's written all over her. How she walks - with grace so nonchalant I'd never miss a step. Such is my life goal. To carve something special. Something to be deciphered upon in heaven.

A fourteen year old has certainly not had his life and plans cut out. Call it teenage fantasy but I am confident about this one.

All I want is her canny smile and chubby face. And her handwriting. Girl - she writes. She is an artist of her time. If she makes medical school, we will all decry of the tragic end of her artistry. When you are in love, you work on the fine details. The devil's in the details.

So we check out of primary and into good provincial secondary schools we head. When schools close, I am eager to see her but I am informed that her dad has been transferred to some station else. Basically, they have left the place and they are never coming back. My heart weeps for her.

In the midst of his superfluous narration I pat him on the back. Weep Not Child.

He narrates....

As the holiday wears out, I resign in indignation that she won't be reaching out ever. Maybe she will or maybe not. I wear a facade out of fear.

Fast forward. It's 2018. I am staring at the wedding invitation on my desk. The girl I first loved is walking down the aisle. Thirteen years later after leaving me in the cold, she is washing me in the rains. It took her thirteen years to figure her matrimony out. I haven't even figured out a partner yet. Such is life. I am a complacent soul in the journey of life. Aimlessly I walk with in coalesced steps. In this walk of life, I can't remember the number of times I've had rigor mortis.

Needless to say, a couple of failed relationships has churned an ambagious side of me. Despicable me. My virility might have assailed. I don't know yet. How unlucky have I been! First there was Joan, a princesa at first sight. She convinced me we'd build a home together. A few years later, we built castles in the air. She left me for an exchequer.

Then there was Aggy. I can't forget her nefarious intentions. She pretended to be in love with me. Hounded my feelings around. Her rampacious self, like a bout from blue, took my mojo away. When you think you've seen it all, then you must have missed her clamping all my belongings - from the fridge to the television set to the bed. Literally, all I was left with was a hall - I could hear my breath as I walked around in shock. And she scampered to safety with her loot. She switched off her cell. She might have changed her name and probably fled to Timbuktu fearing our able detectives could comb her out of her hideout. At that point in time, I did feel my heart thaw in pain for the deceit that has been my love life.

I threw a huge imprecation her way during my mad fit.

That's basically a snapshot of my love life. I don't have the courage to find the right footing. Neither do I have the strength to put up with imprimery.

Listening tentatively, I know man has faced the vagaries of love.

He continues...

I wish I could turn back time. I'd never fall in love with Joan or Aggy. Love hath no sweet root where heavenly virtues shoot. I'd ante up instead, win a lottery and get married to the love of my life.

"Bru," I tell him. "Chin up. Every dog has its day. Yours  has not arrived yet."

Deep down I know it is enunciated in the skies, in the yonder, that, Man Must Live in earnest and abundance





Comments

Anonymous said…
"There is light at the end of the tunnel" cliche has me thinking, man must make his own light along the tunnel.
Great piece!!!
7 September 2018 at 08:43
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