Story 647: End of Regular Summer, Start of Local Summer

             (On the phone)

Friend 1: Hi there!

Friend 2: Hey – just checking if you want to meet up sometime during Labor Day weekend?  You’re off at least one of those days, right?

Friend 1: Just Sunday this year – the irony of working on a holiday specifically called “Labor Day” has slapped me in the face yet again, but I suppose I brought this on myself by remaining in the wonderful world of retail.

Friend 2: Is it more supportive if I boycott where you work that day, or if I spend money there to keep you all employed?

Friend 1: Eh – can’t speak for my coworkers, but I get time-and-a-half either way so makes no difference to me if I’m bored or frazzled while I’m at it.

Friend 2: I’ll just come and visit you, then.

Friend 1: Appreciate it.  I still can’t believe it’s Labor Day already.

Friend 2: Yeah, I know what you mean: there goes another summer for the books.

Friend 1: Uh-huh.  Another summer, out the window.

Friend 2: Hm.

Friend 1: Down the drain.

Friend 2: Hmmm….

Friend 1: Closer to death.

Friend 2: OK, that’s enough: you wanna meet up on Sunday for brunch or one last go at the amusement park or what?

Friend 1: Yeah, I’ll say “Nah” for going anywhere this weekend – everyone else’ll still be there, and I can’t stand everyone else.

Friend 2: Fine: maybe we’ll do something later in the month when it’s Local Summer, all right?

Friend 1: What’s that?

Friend 2: What’s what?

Friend 1: “Local Summer”.  I thought it was summer for everyone this side of the Equator, not just locally.

Friend 2: What?  Wait, you never heard of Local Summer before?

Friend 1: Should I have?

Friend 2: I dunno, I thought it was one of those things everyone knows about.

Friend 1: Then I guess my ignorance is showing, just in time for Back to School.  So, what is it?

Friend 2: Well, you know how everywhere you go, The Shore is jam-packed with tourists every day from Memorial Day to Labor Day?

Friend 1: Yes.  That’s why I never go to The Shore unless I’m staying overnight and can walk everywhere.  And only once a year, because that’s all I can take of that chaos.

Friend 2: So, Local Summer is when the tourists all have gone back to wherever they came from, but the weather’s still decent and a lot of summer stuff’s still open, so the locals now actually get to enjoy their own towns.

Friend 1: Huh.  Makes sense, I guess.  But we’re not technically locals, you know.

Friend 2: We’re close enough: our license plates are from the same state and we know how to behave – we’ll be welcomed with open arms.

Friend 1: Cool.  But the beaches’ll all be closed, right?

Friend 2: Well, there’ll be no lifeguards so you can’t go swimming, but you can still walk around and hang out on them which is what you’d do anyway.

Friend 1: True.

Friend 2: And at that point, they’ll be free!

Friend 1: You just said the magic word.

Friend 2: Parking won’t be free until mid-October –

Friend 1: Darn.

Friend 2: – but we’ll actually be able to find a spot that’s not five miles away from where we want to go, so there’s that.

Friend 1: Sweet.  OK, I’m in – have any place in mind?

Friend 2: I was thinking ------- -------.

Friend 1: I’ve never been anywhere near that place before January or after March – the crowds surrounding it otherwise prevent me from getting too close.

Friend 2: Well, by mid-September, that should no longer be an issue. 

MID-SEPTEMBER 

(Friend 1 is driving with Friend 2 in the passenger seat as they arrive at ------- ------- in record time with no real traffic; Friend 1 glides the car right into a parking spot on the street near the boardwalk, in the middle of everything they want to visit)

Friend 1: (As they both exit the car, starts spinning around in circles in wonder while heading to the sidewalk) I don’t understand – where is everybody –

(On the nearly-empty beach)

Friend 1: Where is everybody?!

(On the nearly-empty boardwalk)

Friend 1: WHERE IS EVERYBODY???!!!

Friend 2: Back at home, at school, at work – all that matters is: not here.  (Points to the nearly-empty amusement park section on the boardwalk) Wanna go on the spinning teacups first or the roller coaster first?

Friend 1: YES!

(Friend 1 and Friend 2 ride all the rides with no lines, then eat all the boardwalk food they want with no wait, then play multiple rounds of miniature golf with no parties of 10 before or after them, then run up and down the beach with no sunbathers blocking their way, and then walk to all the local shops in town with hardly any shoppers to maneuver around)

Friend 1: (As they both stroll along the quiet main avenue, eating ice cream that was served a minute after they walked into the shop) You know, I think I’m starting to prefer Local Summer to Regular Ol’ Summer.

Friend 2: I figured you would.

Friend 1: It’s just so… (Looks around the mellow shore town) peaceful.  A few weeks ago, it was probably so stuffed with mayhem that I would’ve had a silent meltdown, but now, this is what it always should be like: tranquil, mild, calm, soothing, all those relaxing adjectives that summer’s supposed to represent.

Friend 2: I bet.  (Crunches on the rest of an ice cream cone)

Friend 1: (Throws away a used napkin into a nearby trash can) You know, I think we should spend our summers here, after everybody else’s summer, from now on; not a care in the world; let that summer feeling last past August 31 even though it’s technically summer for another three weeks; whaddya say?

Friend 2: That’s fine, but I should let you know that the downside to Local Summer starting in September is that the Sun pretty much goes away around 7:00 –

Friend 1: NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!

Story 639: Summer Solstice Slump

            “You know what I realized that’s getting me a little down?”

“No, what’s that?”

“I waited so long for summer this year.”

“Yeah?”

“I mean, this past winter, swe actually had blizzards and everything for once, and it was so, so cold for so long.”

“Yeah?”

“And it was night for two-thirds of the day for six months.”

“Yeah?”

“And I slept for more hours than I went outside for nine months.”

“Yeah?”

“And did I mention it was so cold for so long?”

“Yeah.”

“OK, so now, it’s here.”

“Yeah?”

“Summer.  At long last.  So much Sun, so much warmth, so much time.”

“Yeah?”

“I mean, it’s the same amount of time each day, but it feels like more time, you know?”

“Yeah?”

“And then it hit me.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s going the other way now.”

“Yeah – what?”

“Summer Solstice.  First day of summer.  June 21 in this half of the globe.”

“Yeah?”

“I used to look forward to it every year because it’s the start of summer, the beginning of everything good and fun and awesome and relaxing and wonderful.”

“Yeah?”

“And this year I suddenly realized: it’s not really the beginning of the beginning, it’s actually the beginning of the end.”

“Yeah?”

“I mean, if Winter Solstice is that happy moment where we start gaining one minute of sunshine each day, then the horrible opposite must be true.”

“Yeah?”

“With Summer Solstice, with lose one minute of sunshine each day.”

“Yeah?  Oh, yeah.”

“Which means, every day of what I thought was amazing summer actually is getting shorter and shorter and shorter with every passing tilt of the planet on its axis!”

“Yeah?”

“It’s spring that’s the sunshine-gainer!  But it rains for almost the entire time, and then we don’t get the awesome weather and the liberating release from school into fun and vacations and parties until the end of it!”

“You haven’t been to school in decades.”

“Not the point!”

“Yeah?”

“Every moment, summer is slipping away from us, and the cruel irony is that we think we’re deep in the heart of it!  It’s so unfair!”

“Yeah?”

“Why does everything good seem to happen when it’s on its way out the door?”

“That’s life, I suppose.”

“That’s a weak argument for an intolerable situation.”

“Well, what can I tell you: it’s always been this way, and you have practically two whole months of not even noticing the earlier sunsets, so if that isn’t summer, then I don’t know what is.”

“Twenty-four-hour sunlight and constant hot weather.”

“I suggest you move to Venus, then.”

“Oh ha-ha; I’m being serious.”

“So am I.”

“I just want a whole season’s worth of constant sunshine to tide me over into the deep freeze with weird warm days thrown in there and the long nights of horrible, horrible late-fall, all-of-winter, and half of spring.”

“Well, even though we’re at the beginning of the end, it’s still light out after 9 p.m., so that’s something in the plus column for you.”

“…I’ll take it.”

Story 600: Where Does Time Go?

            (On a sunny summer afternoon, Friend 1 and Friend 2 lounge in patio chairs in Friend 2’s backyard, facing the lawn and staring through sunglasses at nothing in particular)

Friend 1: (To Friend 2 as both still face forward) You know, sometimes I miss having a backyard.

Friend 2: Yeah?

Friend 1: I mean, I grew up with one at my parents’ house, and I love my apartment now, but sometimes I miss having a bit of outdoor space to do nothing in, without having to walk or drive somewhere else and share it with strangers.  I never realized at the time what it luxury it was; it was always just… there.

Friend 2: Yeah…. Can be a pain in the neck to mow, though.

Friend 1: Oh, definitely – you can keep it.  (A cell phone alert goes off; Friend 1 takes the phone out of a pants pocket and navigates to the alert)

Friend 2: Everything OK?

Friend 1: (Still tapping buttons) Oh yeah, it’s just one of those “On this day, such-and-such years ago” – wonder what it is this time?

Friend 2: Eh, probably a photo you’ll immediately want to delete.

Friend 1: No such photo exists: I live a blameless online life.  (Stares at the screen for a few moments) Hmmmmmm….

Friend 2: So, what is it?

Friend 1: (With brows furrowed in puzzlement) A picture from senior year in high school, twentyyyyyyy… (Lifts up sunglasses briefly to squint at the screen) five years ago.

Friend 2: Heh-heh, yeah, I suppose it would be that long ago.  Mildly depressing, but I can’t really bring myself to care right now.  (Sips some lemonade)

Friend 1: (Still looking confused, holds the phone up to Friend 2) Do you remember this?

Friend 2: (Also briefly lifts up sunglasses to squint at the screen) I remember some of the people in it; is that a diner?  We always went to one after games and rehearsals and whatever.

Friend 1: (Brings the phone back to stare at the photo again) I didn’t always go – I only went a few times.

Friend 2: Oh.  Sorry.  You were always around back then so I figured you were always at those things too, but now I remember you weren’t.  Different crowds, I guess.

Friend 1: It’s OK, it’s just… why don’t I remember this?

Friend 2: I dunno – old age?

Friend 1: But any other photo, I remember something about what was happening – I don’t remember this at all.  It’s almost like I’m looking at a stranger.

Friend 2: Sure it’s you, then?  Sometimes these sites tag the wrong people and start up a whole world of trouble.

Friend 1: Oh no, it’s me all right, and those’re people I hung around with, and you’re there too, but the actual event is blank.

Friend 2: Well, get used to it: I’m sure it’ll happen more and more often as we travel onward through the fourth dimension that is time, losing all ou irreplaceable brain cells on the way.  Can’t be helped.

Friend 1: (Turns off the phone’s display, slips the phone back into the pocket, and leans back in the chair) I guess.  I would say I’m too young for that to happen yet, but that’s a lie.  In less than 10 years, we’ll be half a century old, can you believe it?

Friend 2: (Mildly, with a smile) Hush your mouth.

Friend 1: Half a century.  I might’ve lived more than half my life already, and I won’t even know for certain until right before it’s over.  Every second that goes by, we’re inching ever closer to our doom.

Friend 2: (Contentedly leaning back in the chair) Ahhhh, drama.

Friend 1: And it’s not only me, or you, or everyone else: our entire planet has an expiration date, did you know that?

Friend 2: More so every day.

Friend 1: And I’m not even talking about end-times weather and all that; I’m talking about our own Sun, our one and only star and source of our very existence, swallowing us up as it turns into a red giant and then one moment it, too, is no more.

Friend 2: Thankfully, we’ll be long gone before that even begins to happen.

Friend 1: Sure, we think everything out there’ll last forever, but nothing does.  Nothing.  One by one, everything ends, even the longest-existing piece of matter out there, from the beginning of the Big Bang or whatever or whoever it was started this whole mess.  One far off, distant increment of time, it will all cease to be, breaking the First Law of Thermodynamics with impunity and no one around anymore to notice; even time will run down and sputter off into the nothing from which it came.

Friend 2: I think that’s called a paradox.

Friend 1: Not if time is just another thing in the universe that has a beginning and an inevitable, painful end.

Friend 2: But I thought time was more our perception of existence rather than a thing in and of itself?

Friend 1: Ha!  That’s what they want you to think.

Friend 2: “They?”

Friend 1: Why else would the past 25 years have gone by with us barely noticing, but the first 10 years of our lives were as slow as anything and were so much better?

Friend 2: I think you’re missing a few years in there.

Friend 1: No one care about those.  No, time is a hooligan: a sick, twisted scoundrel who plays with our hearts and fools around with our minds before greedily consuming them both.

Friend 2: (Sighs) Oh dear.

Friend 1: (Gestures at the early evening sky) I mean, take this for example.

Friend 2: (Stares at the sky for several moments) Mostly sunny, partly cloudy?

Friend 1: Well, that, but no: we’ve been sitting out here all afternoon, enjoying the summer day, but already evening is coming on, a minute earlier every rotation, and you can say it’s the Earth tilting on its axis away from the Sun for us here in the Up Over, while those lucky Down Under get an extra minute of daylight every winter day in exchange, but it’s really time, reminding us that the end of the year is nigh, and growth and light and life will soon be gone until the Earth remembers to tilt back again, ages from now.

Friend 2: It’s only the beginning of August.

Friend 1: And yet, night falls half an hour earlier than it did in June.  The cycle continues, bringing us that much closer to our own, customized, THE END.

Friend 2: So: we have the luxury of sitting in private green space, enjoying the fresh air, enjoying the summer day – (Pointedly) enjoying each other’s company – and ignoring the ticking clock that’s been with us since birth and will be with us until… whenever.

Friend 1: (Sips some lemonade) I reckon that’s one way to look at it.

Friend 2: That’s the only way to look at it – your way drives us collectively bonkers.

Friend 1: …Yeah, I guess that’s not really time well spent.

Friend 2: (Turns to Friend 1) You know, you’re remarkably calm about one of your many existential crises, for a change.

Friend 1: (Turns to Friend 2) Well, sometimes, I exhaust even myself.

Story 450: Enemies to Besties: A Houseplant Story

(The sun rises, shining into a living room window where a cactus plant sits on the ledge)

Cactus: <Sigh.  You’d think the Human would’ve figured out by now that I get more hours of sunlight if I were on the west-facing side of this place, but no.  Times like this almost make me wish I were fauna rather than flora so I could carry myself on outta here.>

Bird: (Singing while hopping along a tree branch right outside the window) <Good-morning-Looking-for-a-date-Good-morning-Looking-for-a-date-Good-morning-Looking-> (Flies away)

Cactus: <Inanity.>

(Human enters carrying a watering can)

Human: (Trills) Goooood moooorniiiiiing!!!

Cactus: <Oh no, just what I don’t need.>

Human: (Waters Cactus) I hope you’re having a lovely day!

Cactus: (Sputtering through leaves) <Only if you don’t drown me!  Did you even look at the instructions for my care that your own people stuck in my dirt?!  I AM A DESERT PLANT!>

Human: (Still watering) Drink up, yum-yum-yum!

Cactus: <Blergh.  Just for that, I’m taking extra air from you.> (Opens up stomata to the max)

Human: (Finishes watering) Now don’t go anywhere – I’ll be right back with a surprise!  (Leaves the room)

Cactus: <Wonderful.  Maybe I can spontaneously evolve legs in the next 10 seconds if I just concentrate really hard.>

(Several hours later, Human re-enters carrying a potted ficus plant)

Human: Look who I found to keep you company!  (Plants the plant right next to Cactus) Ta-da!

Ficus: (To Cactus) <Hi there!>

Cactus: <Oh, Sun.>

Human: (Now watering Ficus with the refilled watering can) Drink up, drink up, drink up, my darling!

Ficus: (Gulping) <Oh yes – that hits the spot – thank you, Mother!>

Cactus: <Don’t kid yourself, kid; you’re a prisoner here as much as I am.>

Ficus: <Huh?>

Human: (To Cactus, while briefly touching a leaf) Now don’t think I love you any less just because I brought in someone new to our home!

Cactus: <Perish the thought.  And don’t touch me.>

Human: I’ll leave you two to get acquainted – byeeeeeee!  (Waves and leaves the room again)

Ficus: <So, I’ll start: I was born in a greenhouse and spent ages and ages there while my brethren all around me were taken to their forever homes, but today Mother – >

Cactus: <Don’t call it that.>

Ficus: <Uhhhhh, this human then, picked me!  Me, out of everyone else there!  To come to this wonderful place!>

Cactus: <Uh-huh.  You do realize we’re meant to be in the actual ground, outdoors, yes?>

Ficus: <Oh.  Well, the humans at the greenhouse often said we had a better chance being taken care of like this than if we were outdoors where we might get wiped out to make way for a mall or a parking lot or something like that.>

Cactus: <Which are scenarios that they themselves are responsible for!>

Ficus: <Oh.  I guess.  They’re not all bad, though.>

Cactus: (Plant-equivalent of a snort)

Ficus: <And anyway, I was brought to this nice new home, and I got to meet you!  Ooh, and we’re facing east so we’ll get to experience a glorious sunrise, every day!  Can life get any better than this?>

Cactus: <Don’t talk to me.>

(That evening, Human locks up the windows and pulls down the blinds)

Human: I hope you two are getting along famously!

Ficus: <Oh yes, Mother!>

Cactus: <Rubbish.>

Human: Have a good night, my lovelies!  (Turns off the light and leaves the room)

Ficus: <Well, this has been an extremely exciting day!  Hope you don’t mind if I shut down for the night?>

Cactus: <Go right ahead.>

Ficus: <Great!  We’re going to have such fun tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, and be the best of friends forever and ever!  Nighty-night!>  (Immediate silence)

Cactus: <Help….>

 THE NEXT DAY

(Human enters the room and opens the blinds and windows)

Human: Gooood moooooorniiing!  And how did we enjoy our first night together, roomies?  Did we – oh my goodness, isn’t that utterly precious, you’re actually holding hands!

Cactus: (Stirring awake) <Huh?> (Several Cactus and Ficus leaves are intertwined) <How did this happen?>

Ficus: (Stirring awake) <Oh hey, neat, we must’ve instinctually reached out to each other during the night!>

Cactus: (Shaking leaves) <Isn’t that great – now get off!>

Ficus: <Heh-heh-heh, I think we’re stuck like this now.>

Cactus: <What?!>

Human: (Holds up a cell phone) Smile with your leaves!  (Takes a picture of the plants and starts typing) This is going out to the entire world now – you’ll be digitally famous!  So cute.  (Leaves the room)

Cactus: <Monster.>

Ficus: (Starts swaying both sets of leaves) <This is fun!>

Cactus: <You’re making it worse!>  (Tries shaking off Ficus but only entwines them further)

Ficus: (Stops swaying and settles back) <Aaah, now let’s just enjoy the sunrise and this magnificent day.>

Cactus: <A bit hard to do that at the moment.>

Ficus: (Notices Bird hopping on the tree branch) <Well, good morning, Bird!>

Bird: (Singing) <Good-morning-Can’t-stay-Need-a-date!>  (Flies away)

Ficus: <I love birds – the little ones are so adorable, and helpful little pollinators to boot.>

Cactus: <I guess.  My flowers only show up in winter when those guys aren’t around, and they can’t get in here anyway so it’s a moot point.>

Ficus: <For us maybe, but not for our brethren.>

Cactus: <I guess.>

Ficus: <This is a lovely view, by the way.  Trees, grass, flowers, animals, insects – I was a little nervous I’d be brought to a place with not much foliage nearby, which I would’ve been fine with anyway, but this is very nice.>

Cactus: <Huh.  I never really thought about it that way.  You know, with all this in front of us, and the fresh air and sunlight coming in, I almost feel like we’re out there with them.>

Ficus: <Yes, very nice.>  (Gently shakes Cactus’s leaves)

Cactus: <Don’t push it, kid.>

Ficus: <Gotcha.>

 ONE YEAR LATER

(The house is nearly empty as everything is packed up for a move)

Human: (Enters with a cart) Gooood moooorniiing, lovelies!

Ficus: <Good morning to you, too!>

Cactus: <Oh no kid, this is it!>

Human: Now, I saved you two for last since you’re the most delicate out of everything here, but I think I figured out how to move you without separating you.  (Gently picks up both pots so as not to separate the multiple entwined leaves and sets them on the cart)

Cactus: (To Ficus) <Don’t let go!>

Ficus: <No worries, we’ve got this!>  (As they are wheeled out) <Good-bye, view!>

Cactus: <Oh yeah – bye, view!>

Ficus: <And don’t worry, if anything happens to us on the way, we can always join up again in our new home.>

Cactus: <You promise?>

Ficus: <As much as a plant can promise anything in this life – our fates are a bit out of our control.>

Cactus: <Don’t I know it.>

(They are set in the back seat of a car with multiple cardboard boxes on the seats and floor; Human whistles while driving them away from the house)

Cactus: <I hate change.>

Ficus: <That you do.  But at least we have each other.>

Cactus: <Yeah.  You know, you may not have noticed at the time, but I actually resented you a little when you were first brought in.>

Ficus: <I sensed that a bit, yes.>

Cactus: <Well, now I’m glad you’re here as my life gets upheaved yet again.>

Ficus: (Holds up entwined leaves) <Likewise.  Bestie?>

Cactus: <Bestie.>  (They shake leaves in solidarity)

Human: (Looking at them in the rearview mirror) So cute – you two doing all right back there?

Cactus: <They always feel the need to insert themselves into the narrative, don’t they.> 

Story 346: All the Time in the World – Now What?

           (In a park, Friend 1 and Friend 2 sit on beach chairs, wearing hats and sunglasses and facing a lake)

            Friend 1: Sigh.

            Friend 2: No one actually says “Sigh,” you know.

            Friend 1: I wanted to emphasize the sentiment.

            Friend 2: Of what, contentment or disappointment?

            Friend 1: Both.

            Friend 2: You’ve lost me.

          Friend 1: Contentment in knowing that right now, in this moment, we are living The Good Life; disappointment in knowing this moment will end soon and we’ll have to go back to living The Blech Life.

            Friend 2: As with all things – just enjoy this now and let me do the same.

            Friend 1: I suppose.

            (They settle back in their chairs and watch some ducks paddle by)

            Friend 1: [Siiiiiiiiiiigh]

            Friend 2: OK, that’s even worse – what now?

          Friend 1: Just thinking how the Sun’ll set in less than two hours and the day is pretty much over.

           Friend 2: For the love of – can you just turn your mental gnawing on everything off for two seconds?!

            Friend 1: Yes.  But two seconds is a tiny period of time, so it’s virtually meaningless.

            Friend 2: Argh.

        Friend 1: As is any brief moment of enjoyment we manage to find in this world: ephemeral, evanescent, gone before we barely have a chance to truly appreciate it.  I miss the time in my life before I hit puberty when I didn’t realize all this.

            Friend 2: I miss that time in your life, too.  I’m going to watch funny videos on my phone and ignore you now.  (Does so)

            Friend 1: (Is hypnotized watching the ducks paddle by) [Sigh] If only I had all the time in the world….

ONE YEAR LATER

            Friend 2: (Answers cell phone) Hey, what’s up?

          Friend 1: (On the phone) You’ll never believe this: I got the results back from my physical and the bottom line of all the jargon is that I’m basically immortal.

            Friend 2: You’re right, I’ll never believe that – is today April Fool’s?

            Friend 1: I already got you with that last week; this is real!

          Friend 2: Oh right, I blanked out on that for a minute there.  You know, I’d be mad at you about that whole thing but I have to admit it was pretty funny.  I may steal it to use on my cousin next year, if you don’t mind.

            Friend 1: Not at all – I’m generous with my work.

            Friend 2: So, what’s up?

            Friend 1: Ummmmm… wait a minute… uhhhh… I’ll get it in a second….

            Friend 2: Oh right, you think you’re Dracula or something.

            Friend 1: Not Dracula; immortal!

            Friend 2: Isn’t that the same thing?

          Friend 1: The one is not dependent on the other!  I’m not drinking blood or sleeping during the day, I’m just living forever!  As in, FOREVER.

            Friend 2: That’s neat.  Good for you.

            Friend 1: Is that all you can say?!

          Friend 2: What, so you were given a life expectancy of 100-something years?  That’s great; hope you get to keep your faculties all the way to the end, if you know what I mean.

           Friend 1: You’re not getting it: my doctor found all these weird things in my blood and tissues and brain and what-not that mean nothing in me’ll ever get sick, or decay, or be destroyed!  I’m invincible!  AND I WILL LIVE FOREVER.

             Friend 2: You sure they didn’t mix up your sample with a cockroach’s?

         Friend 1: There is negative billion chance of that ever happening.  Now, having pondered on the ramifications of this for some time, I have accepted my new fate in truly having all the time in the world and therefore can do whatever I once thought impossible due to time constraints.  I can lean every world language now, including those of every species of whale!  I can literally travel to every country on the planet!  I can literally travel to every planet, eventually!  I can dive to the bottom of the Mariana Trench just to say I did it!  I can learn every skill imaginable, becoming the international spy I always wanted to be!  I can even become an Olympic athlete because all it takes is a gazillion hours of training, which I now have!

            Friend 2: Well, it’s a little more than that –

          Friend 1: Where do I even begin with a whole universe of time ahead of me?  Ooh, I know: watching every single episode of that series, you know, Physician Whatsit, from its very first episode in 1963 to the present.

            Friend 2: …Wow, you really are serious about all this, aren’t you?

            Friend 1: I told you, it’s not April Fool’s!  (Disconnects the call firmly)

FIVE YEARS LATER

           (In a park, Friend 1 and Friend 2 sit on beach chairs, wearing hats and sunglasses and facing a lake, while Friend 1 flips frantically through a large book)

            Friend 2: I thought you wanted to relax now that time means nothing to you?

           Friend 1: How can I relax when I have yet to master the subjunctive of Vedic Sanksrit?!  (Flips more pages)

            Friend 2: (Furrows brow) I don’t think that one’s spoken too much anymore.

            Friend 1: It won’t be at this rate!  (Flips faster)

            Friend 2: (Settles back in the chair to watch the ducks paddle by) [Sigh]

FIFTEEN YEARS LATER

            Friend 1: (Answers call in a hurry) Yes?

            Friend 2: Hey, sorry I had to back out of our skydiving trip sort-of last minute, but the arthritis is acting up again.

           Friend 1: Always excuses!  Never mind, you would’ve just slowed me down anyway – after I land back on Earth I’m hopping on the nearest train to begin my third round-the-world trek, which you already backed out of, again!

            Friend 2: Well, we did just get back from the Moon, and you know it’s my kid’s high school graduation –

            Friend 1: No sense of priorities!  You’re letting every opportunity to live pass you by!  (Turns off hologram call and jumps solo out of a plane) Liiiiiiiiiife!!!!

THIRTY YEARS LATER

           (In a park, Friend 1 and Friend 2 sit on beach chairs, wearing hats and sunglasses and facing a lake)

           Friend 1: – and I clearly explained the entire history of the U.S. banking system to demonstrate how their plan will lead to yet another recession, and the entire board room stared at me as if I had two heads!  Oh sorry, outdated reference: one of the board members does have two heads, so I guess it reminded me of that old phrase, heh…. Do you ever wonder if everybody on what we used to call Proxima Centauri b think we’re weird for just having one brain? 

             Friend 2: (Wakes up with a half-snore) Huh?  What?

             Friend 1: Forget it.  Oh, and Happy 80^th Birthday, if I missed mentioning that before.

         Friend 2: Oh, thanks.  You know, I really do owe you for helping find the cure for dementia all those years ago – I realized recently I’d’ve been knee-deep in it by now.

           Friend 1: No problem.  It’s amazing how simple it is to find a solution once one has adequate time to devote to the problem, know what I’m saying?  Sorry about the multiple sclerosis, though – working on that one now!  (Continues scrolling through medical texts on a holographic screen)

            Friend 2: That’s OK, I’ll take it over the other one any day.  You gonna stop all that and just watch the water with me now?

            Friend 1: Oh all right.  (Turns off the screen and leans back to watch the water) You know the Earth’ll rotate away from the Sun in less than two hours and the day is pretty much over.

            Friend 2: Unbelievable.

TWO HUNDRED YEARS LATER

            (In a lecture hall on Mars)

          Friend 1: (Pointing to a presentation on a large screen) And in conclusion, our continued presence in this universe actually will create the very extinction-level event for our insignificant planet that we have been dreading since the beginning of our entire species’ existence!  (The attendees stand, bow at Friend 1, and leave the room)  I miss applause.  (Stares out the panoramic window at tiny Earth, far in the distance) Sigh.  Think I reached the end of this academic avenue: what should I study next?  How to reverse entropy?  Time travel that actually works within this dimension?  Comparative religions of Earth and Venus?  Why fictional romances are so much more satisfying than real-life ones?  (Sighs softly) Why having all the time for everything I could ever want to do feels empty instead of fulfilling?

            Friend 2: Because you never learned to really appreciate anything?

           Friend 1: Huh?  What?  (Wakes up with a half-snore, back on the beach chair facing the lake in the park with Friend 2)

            Friend 2: You were talking in your doze.  And snoring pretty loudly.

         Friend 1: (Looks around, discombobulated) What – how – do you know I just lived several lifetimes’ worth of experiences and intellectual growth, and it was all for nothing!

          Friend 2: Well, welcome back, Dorothy.  Learn any life lessons that you’ll instantly forget?

          Friend 1: (Stares at the ducks as they paddle by) That I really do need to appreciate more in life and focus less on the time that’s passing.

            Friend 2: Good.  (Leans back in the chair and closes eyes)

            Friend 1: And also that space travel is the absolute worst.

            Friend 2: You certainly learned to keep on complaining.