WHILE NOT AN EXACT SCIENCE (yes, I did that on purpose), I always knew the general time of my departure from an overlap. Shorter jumps were easier, I could get close to the minute, but on these decade-and-a-half journeys, a day or two plus or minus was more accurate than due dates for expectant mothers—and doctors only had to look nine months into the future.

We had spent our last three weeks doing nothing but being together and having fun. We had been to see the grandparents, took a short vacation to Yosemite National Park, and enjoyed several day trips. Georgie derived as much fun from not going to school as from any of the family activities that replaced it.

I always felt it coming. Now I knew it would be within the next few days, my time was up. A hard-to-describe tingle, barely discernable, coated my skin for a day or two before I was pulled from a jump. I had insisted Ellie take the weeks off from work, letting nothing get in the way of these precious few last moments together. This one sunny morning, we piled into the car and headed to the beach. 

In this timeline, I bought Tesla—not one car, I bought the company. Insights from normal time often served me well financially in an overlap. I had been able to fund my little project and care for my family’s needs, and then some.

Unfortunately, in this life, Ellie took a job in the Public Defender’s Office in Charleston, South Carolina. A fine city, and a great place to raise children, it meant the beaches hugged the Atlantic coastline. For the first time, it did not bother me. We had another family day and in these last moments I had with them, the locations became inconsequential.

Ellie had packed lunch and Georgie insisted on pulling the large cooler that must have matched his body weight. The wheels made easy work of it until we hit the sand. The love of my life, perfect in my eyes, especially in the reclaimed instances in my overlaps, did not excel in the culinary arts. Beyond my famous pesto, neither did I. While pasta with fresh basil pesto didn’t make a great choice for a beach picnic, a smear of the sauce elevated the sandwiches greatly.

I never knew how someone could make such an unimpressive sandwich. Meat, cheese, some lettuce and tomato, sliced bread, and you at least had a decent meal. Not Ellie, she defied the known laws of physics and made the most tasteless sandwiches I had ever eaten. Of course, in my overlaps, I never complained about them or her cooking. Even in the real world, my Ellie and I always had enough money, and both worked, so we ate out most of the time.

Too cold for the water, it took effort to keep Georgie entertained. Frisbee with all four of us followed by tossing the ball with Barker, our collie he named as a puppy, wore him out sufficiently. He ate potato chips as Ellie ran her fingers through his bushy hair and the two watched as Sabrina and I set up the kite. 

“This autumn breeze should be perfect for it,” she said with excitement bubbling in her voice. “I can’t remember the last time we did this.”

Spraying bits of chips, Georgie said, “Last week, in the back yard.”

“That was more than a month ago, Georgie,” I said.

“Dad, it’s just George. I’m not a kid anymore.”

“No, you’re a little man now, aren’t you… sitting on Mommy’s lap.” I could not contain my laughter. Sabrina heartily joined in while Georgie put on his best fake pout.

“It doesn’t matter how old you kids get; you’ll always be my babies.” Ellie squeezed him tighter, and he squirmed loose.

Always? The word penetrated my heart like a javelin. Although I could only imagine what that might feel like, I assumed this was worse. The tingling had increased, signaling this was the last day, the last hours in this paradise of an overlap that had wholly exceeded every aspect of my real life, my normal-time existence. There, I wore an older man’s clothes, living almost in isolation save for my AIA and the cook and housekeeper—my digital assistant being the better conversationalist of the three.

While I lost myself in my sorrowful thoughts, Sabrina had the kite flying high as she ran several long steps this way, then that. Her giddy laughter froze the moment, with Ellie cheering her on and Georgie clapping as he ran after his sister. The haunting words of that song rushed in on me with more profound meaning than I could have squeezed out of those lyrics before right then. 

There’s a kite blowing out of control on the breeze. Unpredictable, wonderful, miserable, and joyous, such is a life lived. Of all the lives I have lived, this one defined what life truly was, all it could be, if we let the wind take us.

Hardness sets in. The ones left behind normally needed to thicken their skin to endure, to carry on after their loved one had gone. This time it would be the thin-skinned departed who would mourn as I had never known grief before. Soon I will wake up…, alone once again.

Who’s to say where the wind will take you?