A Sometimes Machine

    There I was on my deathbed, looking Death dead in the face and he tells me, "You can have it all back."

    I was dying of cancer. I didn't stand a chance. Then he looked at me and smiled a smile so innocent, I swear I almost cried. He said, "I can hold this off, and you are welcome back anytime to draw the curtains, but until then you can enjoy the trip."

    Then he thrusted me back with such force I was pushed back into my first memory.

I was drowning, and the presence of Death comforted me. As if only to return to unmade were all there was to fear. I was three, and a wave at the beach swallowed me into the ocean. The sun shone down as if upwards at me, I was belly up at a considerable depth, awash in crashing water. Then an arm jutted through the sun to reveal my father pulling me back into the breathing world. He set me in his arms and carried me ever so lovingly to my mother and we shared in the joy of unbroken love on that white, sandy beach.

    Death whispered, "What do you say?"

. It was amazing! This wasn't just a memory. I was a baby again. All the moment alive with the experience, and he was offering me a chance to actually relive my life for real? What would you have done?

    I said, "Yes."

    "Life is a sometimes machine. Here's a chance to see all the times you passed up being on the forever side of things."

    Then another wave came over me. This time it was electricity. Mom had accidently pulled the chord out of the wall vacuuming the floor and asked me to plug it back. Well one of the prongs was bent and I had the bright idea to hold the prongs together while plugging it in. It was like every nerve in my body is active and on fire. The kiss of death was an agonizing pleasure. But still, this rushed out at me when I said yes to Death.

    I thought about my one and only Summer at camp and I was there. The major event of my camp life was drowning in the lake, and before I got a chance to resist the memory of it, I jumped off the end of the dock knowing I didn't know how to swim. I had forgotten the memory in the living of the moment, because I was there again. I was actually there!

    I splashed down into the cool water, feet first. The lake enveloped me and panic flooded my heart as I suddenly realized that just moving your arms and legs doesn't mean you swim. I was fighting the water for a hold on what life was on the other side of it, and I lost. I managed to bob out of the water a couple times, wildly swinging my arms and gasping for air as the fresh water pulled me back down. I swallow water and crash out one more time, just long enough to choke out a, "help me," as all the other campers laughed in hilarity at what they thought was me pretending to drown. But I was too soaked in my own folly and sunk back down one last time. 

    I don't know how long I was floating down there before I, washed in a peace, began to give up fighting and just accept my fate. My eyes see plantlife and small fish darting about the settling cloud of dirty water that I disturbed in my struggle. I maee no conscious effort to move but my body twitched from time to time as life began to leave me. This isn't so bad, I thought, if this is what dying is like, I'm not afraid any more.

    Then Jeremy, a scrawny little black boy who introduced himself to me by saving my life, disturbed my peace in a short minute when he dived in and dragged me back onto the dock. I am revived and Jeremy is my best friend for the rest of camp. He spends most of his time teaching me how to hold my breath and get over my fear of water.

    Then I died again.

    This time I was choking on a chunk of ice that got lodged in my throat. The sudden interruption of my breathing shocked me to full alert. At first I tried to say something to get my babysitter's attention but I was met with hard pressure and pain in the deep of my throat. Nothing was passing through. In a desperate panic I stand up at the table, so fast that the chair I was sitting in gets slammed against the wall, and I begin stomping my feet as loud against the floor as I can. My babysitter was washing dishes in the sink, staring out the window and yelling at me to be quiet. Why doesn't she see what's happening? But then something began to change and I lost interest in the babysitter's apathy 

    I began to rise above my body and looked down at the room. I was still there, having a fit and making all the noise I could, I had fallen by then and was kicking violently against the floor with my heels, but I noticed that sound was faded from me. I was rising further from my dying body in a relaxed and detached mindset that quickly informed me that none of what was happening below me was of any consequence. It wasn't just floating but more like gravity's opposite. I was able to see when my babysitter finally decided to turn and see what all the fuss was about. My face was purple and I desperately pointed to my throat, I saw this happen from the top of the upstairs bedroom. Walls didn't seem to matter either. The babysitter screamed and jumped into action. She fell to her knees and shoved her fingers down my throat. Her nails were long and scratched along the way to remove the obstruction. The pain slammed me back into my body. All the serenity and calm of being away from my body was replaced by a body full of pain and a sore throat. I was angry for a while, because whatever was happening before she decided to save my life was better than the life she pulled me into.

    I jumped several years later, beyond drunk, and lying in a ditch. Earlier I tried to drink myself to death because my girlfriend dumped me. But I didn't even get that right. Jeremy showed up and pulled me out of the ditch, dragging my unwilling body into his car I get overwhelmed by a nauseous downward turning but my stomach won't allow me to vomit. I blacked out and a shutter of events played on my consciousness. 

   Jeremy stripped me naked and played me in his tub with a cold shower falling over me.

    Black.

    I was sitting on his sofa and his wife is looking at me, wide-eyed and worried, "Is he dead?"

    "Almost," he told her.

    Black.

    Something else tried to happen. I was traveling through time alright, but I had no control of where I would go. The reliving of all these moments seemed to progress only through my life's most wretched events and, seeing that I was only in my twenties, I was ready to end the agony. I stopped Death's time traveling game with two words.

    "Please stop."

    And it did.

    I was back at the hospital, dying in bed. Death was still there, smiling. He looked down at me, eyes glistening like stars, and layed his hand gently over my heart.

    "Ready to see what you've been running away from?"

    And then I burst into tears as the onslaught of beautiful memories cascaded through my mind. I didn't visit them, they merely flooded my vision. Fear faded to nostalgia, but I knew it was all gone from me. There was nothing left to live, and Death comforted me. I wiped the tears and snot away from my face. I smiled back at Death.

    "Yes," I said. "As ready as I'll ever be."

    Then I died.