The Gift of Time

The Gift of Time

I finally got this stupid machine to work, now where or should I say when will I go with it.  Going to the past might be interesting, but you know, that is what history books are for. Why relive the past? We all know what happened.

It seems to me that the future is where it’s at. If I can find out things that are going to happen in the future, maybe I can prepare for it and even benefit from that knowledge. After all, I am a man of the 21st Century. We are the people that only care about ourselves, not anyone else. At least that’s how it appears to me with some of the people I meet and see on TV in the news. 

Let’s see, it’s December, a time for celebrating, and for gift giving. Why don’t I move into my future and see what I’ll be getting as gifts this year? I hate to be surprised. 

I step into my newly designed time machine. Sit down in the comfortable reclining chair I provided for myself. Adjust the dial so that I make it to later in the day on Christmas and push the Run button. There is a short blip on the screen, my surroundings change, and I find myself just inside the room where gifts are being given. I’m not seen by anyone in the room, which is good, since I’ve heard that seeing yourself physically can cause a time paradox and totally wreck the timeline.  

I notice that no one is giving me any gifts at all. In fact, I am the only one giving gifts to others. This can’t be right. This is supposed to be about me! I increase the outside volume so that I can hear the conversation going on. 

“But you said that we shouldn’t give gifts this year,” my brother said. “We should just be happy to be together.”

“We all agreed with you,” my father said. “This was to be a holiday of pure thankfulness, and not thoughtless gifts.” 

“We all liked that idea,” my twins stated at the same time. “Why are you doing this?”

I was confused and heard myself say,  “But I thought by, saying we shouldn’t give gifts, you would all think how noble I was and you would get me better ones.”

The mood in the room definitely saddened. No one bothered to open any of the gifts I gave out. Granted they were all gift cards to Dunkin’ which is what I usually give. It was easier that way.

At this point, the Time Machine, which had been set on a timer, returned me back to my own time and place. 

What just happened? I thought this gift-giving thing was supposed to be all about me. Wasn’t this the me generation? Based on the fact that my family was willing to forego presents just to be together, maybe I got it all wrong. 

At that instant, my time machine disappeared. And in its place was a note to me written by me in the future. It stated, “You don’t need this machine anymore. You learned what you needed to learn. It’s time to change.”

And so I did.