Sunday, September 1, 2019:

I was staring at my phone’s screen looking at hurricane forecasts, predicted routes, wind velocity, how far inland would storms reach, how far inland was the city I was supposed to fly to. I wondered what colleagues were doing and felt helpless as I realized outside of work emails, I had no way to ask them. I got back on my phone to check again and again and again. I talked with my partner. I called my dad who used to travel frequently for work. I texted co-workers who were also going. We talked on the phone to deliberate. I looked at more charts and graphs of the hurricane from at least five different sources. Most people move away from hurricanes, not go towards them. Murphy’s law also stipulates that if I go, I’ll get stuck with bad weather. If I don’t go, the weather will be fine.


Friday, July 5, 2019 – Present:

Easy Cake Recipe: Box regular cake mix. Mix according to directions. Then add a can of ready made frosting to the batter. Mix. Put in bundt pan and bake for one hour or until done.

It will taste and smell like something from my childhood. I can’t readily pull it up in my mind, but with computerized instinct, upon that smell and taste, it comes crashing down. I’m there sitting on her concrete steps shelling beans, placing them in jars, and sneaking bites when grandma’s not looking. Easy cake was simple to manifest back then. Now I’m not sure if I should just follow the directions or veer off and use local flour or my own frosting or make a non-easy cake (is that the opposite of an easy cake?). What kind of eggs should I use? Do I wait for a special occasion or just make it?


Monday, September 2, 2019:

It’s been made more complicated than it needs to be. Twenty-four hours later, I’m still scanning forecasts and graphs of the hurricane. I’m overthinking. I’m putting off the decision maybe for someone else to make or until I’m forced into a situation. Where’s my easy cake? In the land of time, or lack thereof, there are no missed opportunities. It’s all cycling and boomeraging back and forth. Back and forth. Going round until it appears again but just different enough that I may not recognize it. I’m okay with this because I’ve grown to recognize this. I slowly move in the direction I want but never on the timeline I presupposed and it never looks the way I thought it would.


Friday, September 6, 2019:

Time becomes circular and cross-hatched from all sides. It’s full and three-dimensional. It’s not logical or rational but universal. When squinting, it looks bright with vivid colors of oranges, reds, and blues. It doesn’t use clocks, it only cycles where beginnings become endings and endings are actually beginnings. It’s essence is like walking through my grandmother’s house, shelling her beans, mowing her grass, eating cookies at the kitchen table, celebrating with family.


Tuesday, September 3, 2019:

Back on my phone even though I’m not going anywhere near the hurricane, I’m still tracking it. Did I disappoint? Am I missing out? What if nothing happens? How might others view the decision? I’m still following the storm. With multiple me’s, I’m tripping over myself like I’m in a funhouse of mirrors. In the wild unknown of my mind, I perpetuate my drama creating a soap opera storyboard.

I turned an easy cake into a three-tier iced truffle cake. Is time travel a thing? If time is a construct, then I don’t need to travel it. Linear time complicates and grasps the ungraspable. If time is constructed, then what is easy is only that way because I have hardness to measure it against. I make it easy or difficult based on the liquid train of thoughts that pour through my mind incessantly like the obsessive following of the hurricane (which by the way I continued for five days as if I could go back in time and change my decision).


Saturday, September 7, 2019:

What would that look like to time travel when you get that perfect hindsight? Goosebumps cover my arms just thinking about it. We would all be bouncing around time like on a trampoline. One could only hope it would be that fun. Going as high as possible, back and front flips, trying not to land on someone else, the giggles of children rising up a cacophony of noise. Then, when too tired to bounce any more, you simply get off and let someone else have a go.

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