The Lost Time Traveler

David was in his childhood backyard, repairing the scent of the freshly cut grass in his senses. The soft voice of laughter came from the kitchen window and his mother was in the kitchen, alive and well, making dinner. His heart raced. He hadn’t been here in over twenty years, yet everything looked exactly as he remembered.

How was this possible? One moment, he was in his cramped apartment, restoring an old pocket watch that he had found at a flea market, and the next, he was back in time that he thought he would never come back to. The year was 1998. David was ten again.

The accusation stings of it all appeared too supernatural to hold on to. For years, he had played over his memories in his head, yearning to experience the simple days once again before the tragedy struck his family. His parents had died in a car accident just a year after this moment, and from then on, his life had become a painful blend of grief and regret. As he stood there, David could feel the old familiar pain—a pain he had carried for a very long time.

He walked to the house, his steps were slow and purposeful, as if he feared the illusion would be broken any second. He wasn't looking for his father, but through the window, he saw his younger self playing in the living room. His father was sitting on the couch, absorbed in the newspaper, not suspecting the tragedy that was about to take place that would scar their family forever.

David was overwhelmed with thoughts. He felt like he can do that? Is this the time that he could prevent the accident and rescue his parents? The idea was very alluring. He had been dreaming about this moment for years. He wanted a chance to turn back the clock, to avoid the loss that was the death of his spirit everywhere he went.

However, suppose he changed the past and caused unexpected consequences? What if, instead of losing his parents, he sacrificed himself or another to a worse fate?

David was in urgent need of the answers. He approached his younger self, hesitated for a while before he knelt down in front of the boy. His little selves was playing and looked up, his eyes asked him why curiously but he was not scared.

"Who are you?" the smiling boy asked.

David swallowed hard. "I'm... someone who knows you," he said softly and was striving to keep his feelings that were close to getting on a level field.

The boy examined him for a second, then the smile flashed on his face. "You look sad."

David blinked back tears. "At times adults feel sad, but it's okay."

"Why are you sad?" the boy asked.

David took a moment to think. How could he explain the remorse he felt when he had lost his mother and father to a child who had not yet experienced such things? "Because I lost something," David finally said, his voice breaking. "Something really important.

"The boy’s brow furrowed in concern. "Can't you find it again?"

David sighed, looking around at the familiar surroundings. "I thought I could. But maybe... maybe it's something I need to learn to let go of."

The next few days passed in a blur. David lingered in the background of his family’s life, watching moments unfold that he had forgotten. He saw the love and joy they shared, but also the small arguments and frustrations. He realized, with a deep sense of sorrow, that this was not a perfect life. His parents, though loving, had their flaws. The happiness he longed to preserve had always been accompanied by the imperfections of daily life.

As the date of the accident approached, David felt torn. The night before, he found himself at the kitchen table with his mother. She was humming softly as she prepared dinner, unaware of the storm raging inside him.

"Mom," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

She turned to him, smiling warmly. "Yes?"

He paused, staring at her face, memorizing every line and feature. "I just... I love you. You and Dad."

She walked over, cupping his face in her hands. "We love you too, David. Always."

The next morning, David stood at the crossroads. His parents were preparing to leave for the trip that would end in their accident. He could stop them. He could save them.

But as he watched them, a calm realization washed over him. He couldn’t change the past without losing something else. Life wasn’t meant to be rewritten, and his grief was part of who he had become. By trying to avoid the pain, he might never grow, never heal.

As the car drove away, David clutched the pocket watch in his hand. It clicked, and with a flash, he was back in his apartment, tears streaming down his face. He hadn’t saved them, but he had learned something deeper: the past was gone, but his love for them remained.

And with that, he could finally begin to move forward.