“I wish I could time travel,” I said. “To the 1940’s.”
I was speaking with my husband, who was trying to scruffle up something for dinner.
“Why?” he said, as he opened the oven looking for the cookie sheet.
“I keep looking for something that should be there,” I said. “But, it isn’t.”
I have read books about WW2 for most of life. It’s not that I want to learn anything about it. It seems like I know all I want to know. And, there’s something I seem to know, that I never find in any book I’ve ever read. I’ve looked in history books, newspapers, magazines and even fiction novels. I have no idea what I’m looking for.
But, it’s never there – whatever it is.
“Where would you go?” he said.
“New York,” I said, without even thinking.
“A printer in Brooklyn,” I said.
Why did I say that?
I have no idea.
But, I am still looking for something that’s never there. It’s one of the last mysteries in my life, that must be solved.