This one amazing thing that lets me see the future.
It’s not as difficult as you might think.
This is Milo — my grandson. And even though he is only a few months old, he is already helping me see the future.
2025 is not that far away and I can clearly see his first day at school (hopefully I’ll be able to share that with him). He’ll have a small lunchbox decorated with his favorite cartoon character. Perhaps like me, the fruit, yogurt, and biscuits will all be devoured before morning break while the boring sandwich will be returned un-eaten or discarded on the long, dawdling walk home. All this will be carried inside a too-large backpack that his sensible mum knows he will grow in to.
Because this is my version of the future, I can afford to daydream a little.
Milo will sign a record deal. “The Birth of Cool — Part II” will be released in January 2041. His time as a rock star, style icon, and all-around cool dude will be short-lived, however. He’s got to squeeze in an F1 championship and a starring role in two rugby world cups before he turns 30. Luckily, he’s got the hair to pull it off.
In the thirties, he’ll be a teenager. Wild & rebellious or studious & thoughtful or probably a bit of both.
He’ll travel — that’s for sure. That’s in my DNA and his. Pandemics aside, humans always want to know what’s around the next corner. You don’t need a crystal ball to know that will always be true. I’ll tell him all the places I’ve been and he’ll see all those sights and more with my eyes and his. I’ll perch on his shoulder dreamily remembering favorite destinations. I’ll be packed in a small corner of his suitcase and slip out at each city or town to smell and taste the streets again.
Perhaps he’ll meet his wife-to-be in 2048 in a bar in Tunis or Toledo or Tallinn. In London, England or London, Ontario or London, Ohio. A glance across a crowded, noisy dance floor. A shy smile. And if getting married is still a thing then and I’m still around, I’ll be there for that as well. I’ll be the slightly stooped geezer with the absentminded grin etched on my face.
He’ll have a job — or not. Work might be seen as quaint, old-fashioned, and unnecessary. People will follow their passions and create great things with their hands, hearts, and minds. Humans will be free of the 9-to-5 noose, and we’ll all be better for it. Milo’s value will be in what comes out of his head and heart and the strength of the connections with the people around him.
His own children will grow up in the swinging sixties!! What will be going on then? Will flares and tie-dyed shirts make a comeback! What music will we be listening to? Will concerts be beamed directly into our heads with all the emotions or will we still crave human contact and the feeling of soaring on the wings of a crowd? And what about flying cars — come on I’ve been waiting all my life for those. World peace? That’s maybe asking a little too much.
And maybe in late 2099, just after his 81st birthday, Milo will be rocking in his chair, on his porch, surrounded by his own large family, thinking what a wild ride it’s all been and how mind-blowing it is to be on the verge of welcoming the 22nd Century.
And perhaps he’ll have a thought for his long-gone grandfather who looked into the future and was jealous of all the things he would see & do and all the people he would meet.
Sail on little time-traveler. You are my plain blue police box — my Tardis. My hypersleep pod in a starship on autopilot blasting to a distant star until I awaken in a new time and planet. My tall ship sailing for new, far-off, exciting lands and adventures. My ticket on the number nine bus to tomorrow. A crystal ball whose swirling clouds part under my gaze to reveal all the secrets of the future.
Stay curious, Milo.
Your grandpa is exhilarated!
