Whenever I smell roses, my mind takes me back home in my grandmother’s home garden. She loved the garden, always tagging me along when she went to water the flowers and some kales. As she was busy quenching the plants, I would always stand at the corner of the garden where there were beautiful roses. Fearing to touch as I had previously been pricked, all I could do is smell them and pluck the petals. My mother did not like it, and whenever she found me there, she would get angry and call me back inside. But my grandmother could not allow that. She was always on my side even when I was on the wrong. She had a beautiful smile although she had no two front lower teeth. Her abilities and skills in telling stories were amazing. At some point, I would think to myself that she must have been present in those fairytales. My favorite story was Xiu Ying and a beautiful island called Chongqing. Xiu Ying who was a brave worrier from the land of Tianjin. He would hide from his peers and visit the beautiful island some few miles away from the shore with his canal. My grandmother could explain how in love they were, that even the island would pick up gold and other expensive stones from the bottom of the sea and give them to his love. In return, the worrier would bring her water from the spring. The relationship went on until the island got sick. The worrier was so sad; he could not stay and watch her lover die. He promised her that he would go to the end of the world and find her cure. He went for many days, and when he came back. He informed his lover that she had to wake up and walk towards the land. That was the only way to get better. The worrier helped her lover to the land, and hide her deep into the mountains that no other man would ever see her. Unfortunately, there was one condition to the cure, she would never speak again. Later on, the worrier died. And that is why where we lived the town was called Xiu Ying. That explained why the town was so far from the other towns and was in deep in the mountains. The town is quite a magical place, which floods with tourist year in year out. Whenever I go home, we must visit the karst caves, the hot springs and the gorges with my grandmother.

Time Travel

Time traveling has been one of my fantasies since I was a kid. I mean, who would not want to time travel? Each day movies are being produced on time traveling. Each being better than the previous one, my favorite being ‘predestination’ where the producer did quite an excellent job on that one. The main character is trapped in a loop in time. Theory of special relativity by Albert Einstein gave hope to many scientists on time traveling, and for the first time made me research more on science on my own without an assignment from school or preparing for an exam. Am so thrilled to write this paper, I have never before looked forward to writing an essay like this one.

If I could time travel in time, I would travel to the past, back in 2013. Yes I know, why 2013? Why not go to the 1950s and make myself some wealth or even 19^th century and help fight slavery and colonization of the poor uncivilized Africans? People who were forced to believe in a God they did not know and never had of. Only the white man to use that as a weapon to colonize them. Then take the strongest in a village to trade them as slaves. I can just imagine the cries of an old woman seeing his son being carried away after they killed her husband. Knowing that he may never see his son ever again. Does she even have a purpose or a reason to live anymore? Or even the thought of a master raping a black woman in front of her husband and kids. These must have been a time where emotions ran deep and scooped the soul out of the body, until they could not feel anything anymore, just an empty vessel with no soul to be used by the white man anytime and anywhere. Believe me when I say this would have been the first place where I would have traveled and leave my mark, by trying to restore humanity. But as Jesus said love yourself as you… no, love your neighbor as you love yourself. Meaning before loving anyone else, I have to learn how to love myself to be able to love others. I believe the time-traveling machine would be somewhere in my basement. Key in the start codes, then the year of destination which is 2013, to be specific on 13^th February.

She is headed to job holding her son’s hand, she is telling him something, but I cannot hear them cause am some few meters behind them. But that statement lightens the boys face, and he smiles as the lady smiles back to his son. Sometimes there is silence between them as cars pass by the busy street, but still, you can tell the silence is filled with love and joy of knowing they got each other’s company. I waited in the backyard for them to come back; seated there I could see my mountain bike. God, I loved this bike, it got me lots of friends not mentioning my first girlfriend, Brenda. One time I blackmailed her and told her she would not get a ride until she kissed me. Ladies and gentlemen that’s how I got my first kiss and understood the concept of batter trade. The door is banged, which brings me back from my sweet memory lane. The son has arrived from school; he looks tired. He walks to the kitchen, opens the fridge and for sure he is quite upset. There is no food in the house. Shortly after her mum arrives, with nothing much but a packet of milk and some donates. The son is quite angry with her mum, and they argue for some time. There was a parent meeting in the school, and her mum never showed up. Her mum tries to explain herself but the son is at the pick of his puberty does not listen to a word that her mother says. Instead, he brushes it off and says, “I even doubt you are my mother! Who misses his son’s school meeting and comes home with milk and donates for sapper? No wonder dad left you, you lousy woman.” His mother could not believe her ears, working hard all day to try and make ends meet. Only to get home and receive this much hate, from his own son. The son walks out and leaves her mother speechless on the couch, from where I was standing my cheeks;were wet. I could feel a sharp pain thrusting in my chest, following the rhythm of my heartbeat.

Two days later, and things are entirely different. The boy is seated at a hospitals waiting bay. His mother was hit by a drunk driver when she was crossing the road at the Kims junction. The boy is scared of what will happen to his mother. Will she be okay? How bad was it? His uncle taps his shoulder, and he hugs him tightly. Later the doctor walks towards, them and gives them the bad news. “Am sorry, she is gone. We did everything we could but……” at this moment the boy’s ears could not fathom what the doctor was saying. The brain lost its trust in the eyes because the doctor’s lips were moving, but nothing was hitting the ears. Deep down the boy was confident that the doctor was wrong; he was sure his mother is waiting for him behind that door with a big warm smile.

It comes to the part and reason for why I am here. The boy’s little name is Mark. That is me back in 2013. Me in 2013 has lost all hope, and his heart is broken. The only person who knows him in and out is gone. The only person he could count on is gone. The only person who he loved with all his heart is gone. His mother is gone, and she is no more. They were not in good terms when all this happened. His heart is filled with sorrow mixed with anger for his stupid actions and words. I approach the boy with a broad smile. He looks confused. “Hey there?” I great the boy. He does not respond. “My name is Mark and am from the future.” I grab the boy’s attention. “What?” he responds. ” I came specifically to tell you that everything will be okay. You will turn out to be okay. Your uncle will take good care of you. Do not worry about the situation you were in with your mother; she forgave you. She knows you love her so much. Take it easy on yourself. Everything happens for a reason and a purpose. Your future is bright; I assure you that.” My time watch beeps, reminding me my time is over here. I tightly hug the boy, with a lot of love as I shed some tears. “I love you, Mark,” and I walk away towards my time machine behind the house.

Am pretty sure the boy will turn out to be okay. Back in 2013, this was all I wanted to hear. That I will be okay and that my mum knew that I loved her and I did not mean any of those words that I said. Maybe then, and only then I would not have tried to take my life in that bedroom. Am back to 2019, now am ready to go and make some wealth or fight for those beautiful Africans whose future is about to be ruined by some selfish white men.