TIME IS RELATIVE

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Time is relative.

I was laying there next to the man of my dreams.  He was wearing a pair of jeans he knew I liked with a turquoise T-shirt.  I was wearing a white sundress.

Our shoes were married to each other and sat in the grass just off the edge of our roughly woven  Mexican blanket.  My sandals sparkled with silver glitter next to his black Converse sneakers.

We were watching the sky.  We occasionally smiled at each other.  We held hands.  We were silent.

For weeks we had been told that a black hole would swallow our planet.  A BLACK HOLE was going to SWALLOW our planet.

I know what you are thinking.  Black holes don’t travel and Earth moves predictably in its solar system.  So why a black hole would be heading for Earth was something nobody could explain.

Nonetheless, there we were waiting to be swallowed.

You would think the universe would just get swallowed up by darkness if a black hole was swirling towards Earth but it doesn’t.  You had to concentrate on the black between the stars.  The darkness looks like it’s breathing.  It’s like watching a shadow move just inside and around patches of light.

After watching the shadows swirl around the stars for awhile we began to hear screaming.  The closest I could come to explaining how it sounded would be to ask you to imagine all the seagulls in the world fighting for food in the same spot.  The sound grew the same way the sound of a train on tracks grows as it nears.

The man I love squeezed my hand and looked at me.  He wasn’t afraid.  I wasn’t afraid either.

Sometime after the screaming started came the wind.  It wasn’t like the wind that comes with a tornado, or a hurricane.  It wasn’t the kind of wind that sweeps over the plains.  The wind was more like ocean waves.  Choppy.  Chaotic.  Turbulent.

I had closed my eyes and scooted closer to my person.  He wrapped his arms around me and covered my ears with his chest and hand.  Everything about him told me it’s okay.

Eventually, I can’t say how long because time got screwed up, I opened my eyes because the screaming and the wind had stopped.  I looked at my man’s face and he was young again.  He had beautiful freckles and a sweet smile.  He was maybe 5.  And then he was 60.  And then 14.

We were morphing along with the trees and the grass. The entire world around us was changing its scenery.  The sky was flickering from light to dark as if somebody were flipping a light switch on and off.  Rain came and went.

And then the wind and screaming started up again and the morphing slowed until we were once again lying on our backs, holding hands, and watching a perfectly clear night sky.

The only thing that had changed was us.  We were no longer in our forties.  We were young again.

Oh to be twenty something and wiser.  Our whole lives ahead of us.

Time is relative.

 

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3 thoughts on “TIME IS RELATIVE

  1. Out where the Brigalows grow and the sandstone country rises high above these highlands, where dreams remember time for a while, when looking up into the stories inside each night sky, until the sun comes up as we wake on these rusty rooftops to our histories.

    Like

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