The Begining of a Very Long Day

The buildings were a lot shinier than I remembered. Smoother too. They almost looked like they were made out of plastic. And bright. Not bright like "colorful", but bright like they seemed to be softly glowing. It didn't strike me as unusual at the time, but even the sidewalk seemed to be giving off light.

I haven't been here in years, but as I walk through town, I am struck by how little things have changed. Stores from my childhood that I had thought were long gone, were still here after all. Gardener's Music Store, The Crest, Rimley's Market, all still here. What made me think they were gone?

I decide to go into Woolworth's to see if it was anything like I remembered. As soon as I open the door, I'm met with that old familiar smell of the wood floor, mixed with the smell of hotdogs cooking somewhere over at the lunch counter.

I step inside and immediately on my right are the gumball machines, just like I remembered. Even the one that held pistachio nuts is still here, still looking like it needs a good cleaning. To my left is the scale that gives you your weight and a rolled up horoscope, both for only a nickle. I decide not to step on the scale, but to continue slowly to where I remembered the toy isle to be.

It's almost a surprise and yet, somehow not, when I walk along past toys I haven't seen in years. "Thing Makers" and "Vacuforms" and even "Major Matt Mason".  All favorites from my childhood. At first I think they must be old boxes, but the boxes look brand new. Maybe they found an old stash down in their basement.

I stand there for a minute or two before I realize how quiet it is. The only perceptible sound is the occasional squawking from the parakeets and canaries in their cages at the back of the store. The few people that are milling about are too far away for me to recognize. It doesn't help with that glow. Even though the light is soft, the glow is making it difficult for me to focus. Bodies seem overtaken by the light behind them. When I try to study a face, I can barely make out the indents of the eyes, the protrusion of  the nose, before they turn away.  I decide it's time to go back outside.

As I walk back down the sidewalk, I notice the town is nearly empty. I pass a couple of people I once knew. They turn and smile at me, but we never say a word, we never stop. We just continue to stroll along in our opposite directions. They looked much younger than I had expected. I begin to feel a little bit lost. And in some strange way, I feel a little bit like I've been left behind.

Up ahead, I can make out the silhouette of someone else walking toward me as if they are coming out of a fog. As he comes closer, I slowly begin to recognize him. He looks almost as I remembered. But, like the buildings, his face is smoother. The folds of his skin aren't as deep. The smile and the eyes though, they're exactly the same.

We say hi and start to catch up. He asks me how I'm doing, as if we had just seen each other a couple of minutes ago. Why do I feel like it's been longer than that? As he talks, I begin to realize that this is the only person I've heard speak since I got here. I study his face as he talks, and the more he talks, the more I study. I'm not absorbing what he is saying. He asks about the kids, he asks about me.

And I slowly begin to realize that this is all wrong.

"Dad", I ask, "How can I see you?"
He stops talking. He still smiles, but doesn't answer.
"Dad, you died. How can I see you? How can you be here?"
Still nothing.
"This can't be", I think. "This is impossible."

And I slowly begin to realize. A feeling of panic is starting to rise within me. I'm finding it harder to breath.

"No, it's not time", I think to myself. Dad's smile shifts almost imperceptibly as if he can hear what I'm thinking. I begin to panic more. "I can't go yet, I'm not done. I can't go." Dad's smile softens more. I think I'm starting to cry. I don't want to leave him but I know I can't stay.  I turn and look around, I can't see the buildings. They're all gone. I turn back, Dad's gone too.

The pillow is damp from my sweat and my tears. I blink trying to get my bearings in the darkness, trying to focus my eyes. What just happened? How long was I gone? My heart is still racing. My alarm goes off and I get out of bed, touching my arm as I walk down the hall, trying to make sure I can feel myself. I'm not sure. I feel numb.

I go downstairs. At least, I think I'm downstairs. I'm not really sure. Which is real? I'm almost afraid that if I try to wake anyone up, they won't feel me, they won't see me.

I sit downstairs in the dark and listen.

All I hear is the clock ticking.