When the Future is Yesterday

  I recently sat in on a magazine presentation. It was a local magazine and they focused on the indigenous people of "417-land", putting a distinction on the people. They work around the clock to produce a work of literature littered with ads and stories and places that rip you from where you are and take you to where you could be. I have a personal affinity for magazines with more educational purposes like TIME or National Geographic and if I had to choose I would much rather work there. With that being said I think there is a beauty in the work that they do. It got me thinking about where I could go.

  Jump forward to next year. I'm drudging through my second semester of college and am in desperate search of love. I don't go to parties so my chances for interaction with the opposing sex is limited. I make do with the income from my part-time job at Family Video and I spend as much time as possible at friends' houses. My ambition is rivaled only by my laziness as I do everything in my power to pass my classes and still be an amateur gamer and writing enthusiast. My diet consists of usual college kid things; pizza, pizza rolls, pizza pockets, pizza sliders, and pizza fries. My depression hasn't fully subsided and some days it is a struggle to get out of bed whereas others I cannot wait to carpe diem. The path to being a teacher is truly ironic to me. I can't wait to be done with school so that I can go and work at a school.

  Four more years pass. I'm finishing my first year teaching at Kickapoo alongside my favorite teachers from when I was here. It is quite different from what I expected. I have both more and less control than previously presumed, and I fear I am not as exquisite as I had planned on being. I get along with the students fine but the computers are showing to be more of a hindrance on my abilities than a help and I'm not sure what I am going to be doing for a living for the rest of my days. I finally acquire a girlfriend and we plan on moving in together within the next month. I have tossed around proposing to her, but I have no idea if I'm ready.

  Tack on five more years. I am almost thirty, married to the love of my life, twin boys with a girl on the way, and life couldn't get any better. I finished my masters in poetry and there is talk of letting me teach a class centered on the subject as a communication arts elective. I have never been so well-respected in my life and I'm not really sure how things got so easy. My house is bigger than I had ever hoped, and I had finally saved up to buy a Porsche. Her name is Virginia and she is electric blue.

  Forty more years go by. I am now sixty-eight years old. I have lived with the death of my wife for thirty-eight years. My kids are all through college and working various jobs. My son Malaki and my daughter Au-Riel are both married but my other son Carter hasn't yet settled down. I retired fifteen years ago and I've never remarried. I got involved in politics and am planning on running for office for Missouri. My books have won various awards and gotten me plenty more death threats. Life is hard again. I am lonely, my kids are gone, my wife is gone, and I am stuck fumbling around, barely being able to wipe my own ass. Somehow I miss the days of ignorance and inspiration. I miss the color and the emotion. I am tired, and every single today makes me miss all of the yesterdays.