Help me Stephen Hawking, you're my only hope

I badly need a relativity-related method of transport that will take me back a quarter century to that two-room apartment in the big old house in Kits, the one where the bathroom was shared with the neighbours, and the fridge was full of stolen food. Or back further to the basement suite where old horror movies were watched on the little tv, and where two young bodies pressed together. Where mushrooms grew in all the lawns, which a crew of idiotic teenagers could pick and eat and then walk to the beach to sit on logs and watch the sunset while discussing the universe and solving all its problems.

I just need five minutes back there with my hindsight and wisdom, to tell that stupid girl to not be quite so stupid and to resist the temptations and to hang on just a little tighter, and tell that crazy boy he will be always be cherished, no matter what, and tell them both to go back to school and wait just a few years for maturity to set in and to go about their lives in the right order and yah yah yah, blah blah blah. Neither one of them will listen anyway.

They will go back to lovemaking with abandon on the mattress on the floor, he will save his pennies for that ring, and she will leave, because that is what they end up doing. The sun still rises, the moon still waxes, we move on, give other rings, produce other children, make other lives, while time ticks away.

But ok, Stephen, since you haven't figured out how to physically get me to where I need to go, and I am therefore trapped in the present, the question is, do I continue to reread those words, relive that scene, and regret those actions taken by a stupid child, or live in joy with the present shiny, happy, but somewhat disconnected, life I have made?

I guess I choose the shiny path, though it may be walked with a little less contentment and a little more unrest. I will have to be content with the hope that a promise made will someday come true.

Video of the Day - made for my partner in crime...