One.

One. Number one. The first. The first time. The first time I slipped through time was six years ago. I was in Pittsburgh Pennsylvania attending Duquesne University. It was the night before I was to go back home for the end of the 2000 term. I sat in my favorite chair, smoking menthol cigarettes and drinking Milwaukee’s best.

All first are special, and this temporal jump was indeed very special from all others. Usually my shifts through time occur completely at random. I may be walking down the street, glance at a fire hydrant and in an instant be four years old again watching my father change the car's oil. However this time I felt the transition! I was quietly reflecting on my future as I smoked my sweet smokes and watery beer. Earlier in the year I had applied for a transfer to New York University, to pursue an education in cinema. I still had not received a rejection or acceptance notice. I had no idea where I would be after the summer and what direction my life would take. I smoked and pondered: an essay, grades and a couple letters of recommendation in the hands of people that had never met me, would decide how my future would be shaped! Ironically the impact on my life by the decision of these strangers would be dwarfed by the decision of one person, one person close to me. But at that present I had no idea what was in store for me.

I took drag after drag from my cigarette thinking into the future, fantasizing about the amazing films I would make if accepted. I thought of my old friends, current friends and making new friends. The shift began. I sunk into the chair and the soft brown fabric started to bind with me. I thought that was rather odd, but at the same moment a warm sensation entered not only my body but my mind. I thought of nothing, my conscience became numb to the present continuum. I didn’t even notice the cigarette, which would later make a small burn mark on my carpet, fall from my hand. After I was assimilated into the chair, I began to slowly melt. It was a long melt, like an ice cube. But eventually time and myself dripped away from that present. During the transition from present to past there was no streaking of lights across space, nor falling through a colorful wormhole as images of clocks passed by. Simply the past melted into the present.

Time found its spot for me. It was dark; I thought this was due to the strange events that had just occurred to me. I had never melted before and I began to think I may have died. I sighed with relief when I saw the outline of trees in the moonlight and the faint chirping of insects coupled with the sound of sobbing. Sobbing, is that me? I thought. You’d be surprised how familiar the past is with just a hint of a sound, smell or sight. The pitch of my cry, the sweet smell of grass flowing into my nose, the hard asphalt curb beneath me, the heat from tears burning down my face, a cold bike leaning against me. It could be only one thing. The night I found out my family was moving away from Charleston Illinois. I was ten and I was crying my brains out. The future me was suddenly hit with a wave of emotion from the ten year old. Loss, loss and loss. Then I, that is the me from the menthol and beer present realized that I was mourning the same thing as my minor. Here I sat ten, my future in someone else’s hands, mourning the loss of my friends, my neighborhood, and my childhood. Then I felt the pit in his gut close, as I wiped the tears from my young eyes. “Loss begets gain and gain begets loss.” Whispered from my lips. I got up jumped on my bike and pedaled away. I was shocked, I didn’t remember saying that. But know I was back in my chair. The warm air of the outdoors was replaced with the stagnant air of my dorm. Putting out the fallen cigarette with my beer, I left the rest of the mess for the morning. Flopping on the bed I scoured my brain searching for meaning in my temporal journey, until my eyes couldn’t stay open any longer.