To the Year

This one was kind of hard for Michael and me to agree on, but we did in the end.

“So,” I asked, “if you could time travel to any year, which one would it be?”

“I’d like to meet the Romans,” he said. “I’d also like to meet Jesus Christ, so I’d like to go back to the year He was born.”

“But then He wouldn’t be able to talk yet,” I said.

“That’s okay,” Michael said. “I just want to hold His hand. Would you come with me?”

I thought about it.

“No,” I said. “I don’t want to meet the Romans. They’re scary. And while I love Jesus, I prefer to imagine Him.”

“So where would you go?”

It was getting late, and we were sitting at the kitchen table, sipping mugs of hot chocolate. Michael makes the best. I don’t have the patience to stir it forever, and while he’ll drink my microwaved stuff, we both prefer his stovetop method.

“Maybe 1950. The war was over, and I’ll bet there was a lot less fast food around. I’d go to a large city like NYC and just eat.”

Michael laughed, and I joined him.

“Would you come with me?” I asked.


“When could we both go?”

“How about 1969? Then we could listen to mankind taking a giant leap!”

“The Moon? Sure, why not? That’d be fun to share with you. Everybody would have been so excited.”

We smiled, finished our cocoa, and said goodnight.





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