mementos

tokens for time travel

a couple weeks ago, i was talking with my aunt about wishing that we could travel back in time to certain places from our past that are no longer there. how fun it would be to blink back to the Norwichtown Mall and go to Bee Bee Dairy or Mystic Carousel. later on i ruminated on the idea and how i’d like to visit not only places, but people as well. i began thinking of how i might get there, and settled on rituals performed with special tokens rather than a time machine. rituals feel more real, more obtainable, more believable to me.

a useful component in crafting a spell to visit the past

- i’d choose a pin from my “special box” that i made at when i was young, probably the one of Squirt from Finding Nemo, and prick my pinky on my right hand. i’d draw a small circle in blood on a mirror, close my eyes, and lean my forehead against it. when i open my eyes, i’m experiencing the joys of a child’s first time at Disney World. i have no knowledge of the future; no awareness of a spell being cast. i am simply reliving moments passed that i don’t know i’ve already lived.

i’m eating Mickey-shaped chocolate chip pancakes for the first time in the cafeteria at the All-Star Resort. i’m seeing “It’s Tough to be a Bug” in Animal Kingdom for the first time, equally thrilled and scared at the feeling of something scuttle underneath my feet and being sprayed by a giant stink bug (me today might not be thrilled by this). i’m chasing after tiny anoles after sunset, catching them and then shrieking as they wriggle in my hand.

when i close my eyes in the hotel bed, i’m returned to today, buzzing after a carefree, fun-filled day.

- i’d take a package of tic tac freshmints and shake it three times to go back and visit my Auntie Terri. i’d go back to the time my mom told her we might move into a house right down the street from her, when she jumped up and down with joy. or to Discovery Cove where we swam with the dolphins. breakfast at the Caddy Shack when my cousin and i choreographed a special dance for her for her birthday— or any Saturday we went to breakfast together, honestly.

the tic tac spell would send me back as i am, thirty years old and missing her deeply. during our visits, she would know who i am and be aware of a future that she’s not physically part of. i’d tell her about how much i miss her, but she’d assure me that i could always come back to visit whenever i wished. i’d share all the good things about my life with her— anything to make her smile or laugh. i’d make sure to return to times when she was dancing and dance with her like i love to do with my friends now. i’d take photos of her and with her if i could, trying to create new memories that i know wouldn’t be real to anyone but me.

and when it’s time to go, for the time being, we’d each take a tic tac and pop it into our mouths— the spell dissolving as the mints do.

- the next spell allows me more control over the time i spend in the past. i buy a 4loko or Strawberita from my nearest bodega, depending on the memory i want to dip into. i press the can open, shimmy the tab off, and press it into the center of my left palm.

as i squeeze my fist around the can tab, i have two choices:

i can down the entire beverage, diving out of my current consciousness and into moments where i’ve blacked out in the past. throughout the duration of this spell, i can observe all the things i don’t remember. i’m not able to alter my actions when in my inebriated state, but i can take the knowledge of them back to my present. there aren’t many of these moments, and i don’t find the need to visit one more than once. but i’m glad for the opportunity to revisit these occasions and to know what took place— and if i may owe anyone an apology.

i return to my present consciousness when my past self comes to.

the other option is to pour the contents onto the floor and stand barefoot in the puddle. as my feet press into the puddle and the tab presses into my palm, i am suddenly on the dance floor with my past self and our friends at whatever time i happen to visit. most of the time, we’re at the Rosemont on Oops! night after a Voices4 meeting. we’re blissfully naive. we think we are at the peak of life and that things will stay this fun for the rest of our life. i’m a ghost during these visits, but my past self knows i’m there and is excited to share their joy and freedom with me. these are some of my foundational moments of discovering what queer joy looks and feels like.

when i’m ready to part ways, i release the can tab from my grasp and press it to my tongue.

- i’d use a pair of fingernail scissors to snip off my left thumb nail. i’d put this nail in a small bowl, light a match, and set it aflame. as the fingernail begins to smoke, my consciousness would sink into my childhood self at my Grandma Ladd’s house. i’d be in the front yard playing croquet with my cousins and aunts while somebody is grilling. it’s somebody’s birthday— Grandpa’s?— or it’s Mother’s Day or Father’s Day. everyone is smiling. there are no worries about anything outside of this moment. i am aware that things in the future are different and that the adults here probably have similar troubles to those in my present, but that thought does not cross my mind when i am here in this moment. all that matters is the sunshine and the familial bliss and the safety of this space.

sometimes this ritual brings me to Christmas mornings of my early youth, when everyone was alive and all in one place. or i’m just lying on my grandmother’s living room floor in the evening after dinner at her house. or, if i’m lucky, it’s just the two of us in her living room. it’s after school or an afternoon that i needed to be watched. and i’m leaned into her side, the smell of her perfume present but not overwhelming— soothing. she’s cutting my fingernails, a little ritual of our own. she’s humming or Pokémon’s on the tv. i know comfort and safety and love more deeply than i may ever know again.

when the last of the thumb nail is ashen and the smoke ceases, i am back in my present body.

- there are two rites to go back and visit my Gramma Jambor, and i can only use one of them all-year-round.

the first spell, which can be performed in late Spring to late Fall, involves picking a flower from my garden. it must be one with easily-plucked petals, like a rose or tulip, or the ritual will be difficult to perform. i set both my feet in the soil, bow my head, and begin pulling the petals off one by one— they-love-me-they-love-me-not style.

each petal offers me 30 minutes in my grandmother’s backyard with her, and the flower comes with me so that i can continue the ritual. fingernails caked with dirt, grass-stained knees, the sun burning the back of my neck. i’m in a youthful state but know of my life ahead, and i’m telling her all about it. instead of sharing dreams of my future, i’m telling her about all the things that will happen. mostly good things; i keep majorly bad news to myself. she gives me gardening tips and i pay close attention so that i won’t forget when i return to my own garden.

the spell ends when the flower runs out of petals. being unable to visit in the winter is difficult, but it gives me time to save up more stories to share with her.

the second enchantment involves a perfume that i discovered recently that reminds me of the scent of my Gramma’s house: violets and smoke. i take a shirt, turn it inside-out, spritz the perfume twice over the heart, and don the shirt. as the fragrance settles into the fabric, i flash backward to afternoons or evenings at my Gramma’s house. but instead of lying on the floor in the back room glued to the tv, i’m in the living room with my mom and grandparents. i’m seeing everything through my dad’s eyes (the fragrance reminds him of my grandmother, too). no one knows i’m there. i’m only there to listen, to eavesdrop on whatever they all talked about when i sequestered myself to the comfort of their secondary entertainment area.

i’m there to see her through my dad’s eyes, to learn more about her— what she said and thought and felt; who she was when she wasn’t entertaining me and my brother and cousins. i know i love her, but i’m there to find more reasons to. i’m there to feel my dad’s love for her and take that home with me.

the conjuration fades as the fragrance does, usually lasting the length of one of our visits.

---

is there a time, place, or person you’d like to go back and visit? how would you get there?