Posted on: November 27, 2020
Last Modified: 1 month ago
Fifty-five years ago, I boarded a train that would take me away from home. With my backpack slung over my shoulder and my suitcase trundling behind, I was off to university. Now, it was time to return.
Taking a window seat, I watched the countryside slip by. It quickly became a blur, reminding me of the speed-reading technique I had adopted while scanning academic articles on theoretical physics. One article came to mind where the author claimed that time travel was possible. I had shown him; my eloquent mathematical equations put such nonsense to rest.
I must have dozed off, as the jolt of the train woke me from my nap. The sign announced that I had reached my destination. Hurriedly, I gathered my backpack and suitcase. As I exited the carriage and made my way to the exit, I was surprised to find how little had changed.
A cab pulled into the forecourt. The driver, having stopped, wound down his window and asked, “Homesick already? It’s only been a week.”
“Homesick already? It’s only been a week.”
“A week?” I exclaimed. “Is this some kind of joke? Wait a minute. Is that you, Jack? You’ve hardly aged a day!”
“Neither have you, boy. Hop in, and I’ll take you home.”