text: ## Part I: Under the Tea Tree When I sat on the creaky wooden bench it shifted just enough to make me jerk. One day I’ll end up literally sitting in the garden. My father used to take care of little annoyances like that. He taught my brother such things, but not me... not his little Yulia. No matter; I wouldn’t have been interested anyway. I kept busy with my books, like the one I’m opening now. If you ever wonder if people actually read Tolstoy when they don’t have to, yes... little Yulia does. Of course, I’m big Yulia now. The growing sun warmed the tea olive tree and its blissful scent accented the fresh mountain air. I hadn’t found my place yet, so I looked that way to enjoy its visually pleasing properties as well. Thick greenery dotted with tiny pale-yellow flowers beautifully fronted the rolling blue hills in the distance. I turned back to my book, but the air suddenly smelled electric - the burning of ozone. I looked up again and bounded to my feet, with the copy of ‘The Kingdom of God Is Within You’ falling carelessly aside. From nowhere, more of the small male figure appeared under the tree, right in mid-stride, as if through a slit in some invisible curtain. He continued toward me with eyes every bit in awe as my own. “Mom... you’re so beautiful.” At least, that’s what I thought I heard. “Who are you? How did you get inside my fence?” I demanded, stamping towards him - at first - then slower, nervously deciding whether to defend myself against this little munchkin. We each stopped several steps short - him to gaze upon me, delighting in my every feature - not in a bad way; this was a kid. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was supposed to break the news gently.” “Who are you?” “First, I should tell you my guardian is right behind me,” he started, pointing back under the tree. “Don’t be afraid; he’s a big fellow, so -” Zzzit! From right out of the new hole in the air stepped a stout, soldiery looking fellow about my age. His uniform was more of a sporty, neoclassical gentleman’s getup, though; topped with what looked to be a tan English trench coat that the French had re-engineered to appear about 500 Euros more stylish. And, oh, I found him quite dashing. “Am I dead?” I wondered aloud, looking back to see if my body was left behind on the bench. (It was not) “You’re still quite alive. And you take care of me - well, you and him.” The big one nodded a little grin, then proceeded to study me as he handed over a coin. “I take care of you?” I doubted, finally looking at the coin. “Nice trick; good to know we still put George on quarters twenty-five years from now.” “I need that back.” “I take care of you?” I whispered with a little less doubt. “It’s me, Mom; I’m your son.” “Funny; I don’t recall screaming in agonizing pain trying to get you out or cursing the fiend who put you in,” I sneered - without really meaning to. “Look at me mom; don’t I look familiar?” “Not like any -” The word froze in my mouth. “You told me to ask you to look at the picture of your brother that you keep on the mantel - the one when he was my age - almost ten.” I didn’t need to. My brain had rendered me a mouth-breathing twelve again, where, through the daze, I clearly recognized the nose... and the bright lips below it... and even my brother’s chin. But this was not my little brother and I was not twelve. I put my fingers over my eyes and tried to shake back to reality - if it still existed. I went to reach out to him but stopped. “*I* told you?” “You sent us here.” “From the future?” I shrieked. “I have a son, and I invented time travel,” I surmised with great arrogance. “Good heavens, no; you didn’t invent it. The company you work for did; you’re just keeping the fact that it works a secret from them.” I had already zoned out any further talk of time travel, setting my intentions on learning more about this delightful little boy. I reached out again just to see if he was real. (He was) His hair was somewhat soft, but a little stringy, too. His cheek was warm as if he had a fever. (He did just break through the space-time continuum, after all) “You’re my son?” He nodded shyly and I embraced him as if he really were something I had loved and lost. “I have a little boy... or will have... a darling little boy... that I have to feed... and change... and bathe... and I put powder on your little butt.” I couldn’t help but giggle. The reddening young fellow tried to pull away, but it was too late. I smooched and smooched on him, then stepped back to look him over again. “You popped right out of here?” I delighted, presenting my womb and birth canal with both hands as if they were part of a magic show. “You said you be thrilled.” “Funny that I would know that,” I mumbled, hoping to quash my current stream of thought. “So... mister tall, thick and handsome, are you the daddy here?” “No, ma’am!” he scoffed. “You’re an old lady where we came from.” “You had me when you were older,” my son conciliated. “Before it was too late...” I admitted to myself. “I always thought I didn’t - never mind.” (I sometimes have trouble swerving my brain) “You said I sent you here; why? What else did I say?” “Just that you don’t know it yet, but you have an important choice to make... and meeting me will show you just how important.” “I made a bad choice and sent you here to fix it? ...I must be a terrible mother ...in spite of everything.” “No, Mom,” my son pleaded. “I’m not even concerned with your safety? Time travel must be a dangerous business.” “You told me you’d say that, and to remind you that so is driving your car to the market.” “Good lord; I haven’t even asked your name. Or who your father is,” I fretted. “Is he a good dad?” “Yeah, but he’s not around much. You’re always sending me after him to keep him from causing trouble. Last week we found him frolicking on the beach in Dubai with two Arabic girls.” “What?” I demanded. “Don’t worry; you guys are not together anymore.” I could feel my whole face droop. “Oh...” “You only got married to have me. You’re still friends - you still work together.” “I see. So, I’ve never been in love.” “Not that you’ve told me about.” “How old am I - in your time? In my fifties now?” My son nodded and I had to ease myself back onto the bench, which creaked again. “You thought you’d be happier to meet me,” his sad face lamented. “I am! I am! This is just so much to absorb,” I tried to excuse. “You still didn’t tell me your name.” “You told me not to.” “I must be quite the tyrant.” “Well, Ms. Yulia...” the guardian started, but a little pint-sized hand back slapped his hard belly. “How do you play into all this?” The guardian snapped himself at attention. “You hired me to go with him - on these missions, ma’am. And to keep him company when you’re working late... which is most of the time.” “Mom, can I go inside? I have to use the bathroom.” “May I,” I corrected. “But of course, you may; it’s the second -” “I know where it is, Mom,” he ridiculed, already heading there. “I still live here?” “We all do; it is your ancestral home, after all - well, the American side,” the guardian explained. “You live in the house with me? I see you every day? And I don’t flirt with you or anything?” “Oh, is that what you’re doing?” “Did I not hold up well? Am I fat?” “You have these big lines right there - like you worry a lot. And you wear the most hideous granny glasses. And you keep your hair back in a tight, stuffy bun like a scientist lady.” “I am a scientist lady.” “I meant like from the old villain movies.” “Umm.” “Now that I see what a beautiful woman you once were - I mean are -” “Whew! Glad you ditched that wallpaper in the bathroom, Mom. Who is that with you in the picture on your desk?” “That’s -” I could feel my eyes bobbing so I put my fingernail to my teeth. “How long do you have?” “Should be gone already,” the guardian informed, checking his watch. “Don’t leave me already.” I clutched my son tightly not knowing whether to cry or laugh with joy. Contrary to the plan, the two of us sat on the bench together for a few moments more, carefully getting to know each other - as we are now - at this point in time. ## Part II: The Test I went into the house alone. Sitting at my desk, I contemplated over the lone picture I keep there. Suddenly, with mind rushing, I palmed my womb in disbelief. Straightaway I rushed to the bathroom rummaging for the package of those dreaded tests that I bought last year. Fumbling around with one, I got pee on my finger and nearly cursed out loud. I somehow controlled myself to a mere grimace instead. Then I could only breathe and wait. A moment later I fell within myself crying. ## Part III: Five Minutes and Twenty-five Years Later The travelers returned in time to gather refreshments and find their commissioner coming in the door from work. “Mom! You look beautiful.” “What? This is how I went to work today.” “I must say Ms. Yulia, the kid is right; you’re looking good - smartly dressed, fashionable glasses, bouncing ponytail and all.” “Easy boy; your wife will be home soon.” “Wait! My what?” The door burst open with a feminine voice already barking at him. “Get over here and help me with this.” The guardian stood there dumbfounded, staring at the angry yet curiously familiar young lady about his age. “Did you send them on another one of your missions?” she fussed in my direction. “Uhhh! Do I have to train him all over again?” She impatiently dropped the groceries to the floor and glared at him. “I wondered why you left your ring on the dresser this morning.” She scooped an apple out of one of the bags and grabbed the guardian by the hand. “Well, don’t just stand there; come on!” My confused little Al watched them disappear down the hall with eyes wide. “Sissy gets ill when she hasn’t eaten on time.” “Sissy?” I put my arm around him and pulled him close. “I have a lot to catch you up on, Son.