The E-book of Random Crap

Letters to Time

I wrote a letter to Time one night

I was all alone, cold and sad, nostalgia washing over me

I told It stories of my childhood, though I'm sure It remembers crystal clear

Walking through the garden, hand in hand with my mom. There were other kids around and I was embarrassed. She told me I only had to hold her hand for another Year when I asked to let go. I wish I never asked. Time gave me that Year, then took It away and I stopped holding on. Maybe if I ask kindly, It will give that year back to me.

I asked if it were possible, to give Itself and take away upon request. Thinking, maybe if I proved worthy, a good cause, It could send me back.

I told It, I just want to hold on a little longer. Remember what it feels like to hug someone for an hour. Forehead kissed, hand holding, innocence. Before Time gave Itself up to me, probably because that's what I asked of It. Before I knew what It would bring me.

"Perhaps," replied Time, "I have already given what you asked. There will come a time when you ask to revisit where you are now. Look around at what I have given you. You have families both of blood and of love. Times of learning and teaching. These moments are irreplaceable. Yet every time I give you these pieces of myself, you ask to trade them for another"

But I still didn't understand. Again, I wrote Time, asking why it would give me times of sadness and hurt. Surely it could find in Itself somewhere painless.

"You cannot simply discard parts of your life. Without all of me, you could not begin to comprehend what makes you happy and what does not. You must learn to accept me as I am before knowing that happiness"

So I wrote Time once again. The last letter I sent and the last we would hear from each other for a while.

I thanked It for giving Itself up to me. I told It stories of the present. Wrote of my chosen family It had given me. Getting to be exactly as I am without having hiding myself. Told Time how grateful I am for It being exactly as It is without having to hide Itself.

Then I said my last words to Time, the last words until the end of my own time.

"You have given yourself up to me wholly. Until the end, my old friend"

And in the end as I walked away from everything I knew, It recognized me as though I hadn't changed so much throughout all It gave me. And I was sure to know It in an instant. It was the same as always had been, the same as it will always be.