Internal Clock

Daniel Yocum

Berri sat at his desk, pen in hand. The assignment was to write about what they did last summer. All that was written so far was his name, the date, and a title, “The Summer of 1946.” It had been a glorious summer. Times had changed; hope had returned. He didn’t know where to start the paper. He was so focused on the future, he didn’t want to look back

There were so many possibilities for a young man with ambition. This was his last year in high school. So many careers available in different fields made it hard to decide which path to take — job, trade school, or university. Berri knew for sure he wouldn’t be on the journey alone; Beth was a wonderful girl. They had been dating since they met in class two years ago.

He wrote. He hid some truths and dreamt what they meant for him and Beth. He wrote more about where he wanted to go than where he had been.

He got an A on that paper.

Berri turned the page. It was the last page of his journal. He closed the book and placed it on his rolltop with the previous ones. He took the new one he had received as a gift on his birthday and set it on the writing pad.

A single tear splashed on his wrinkled hand. He hoped his words would express the truth of his emotions for the kids he had had with Beth. He was tired but wasn’t sure if he could sleep.

That would be the first night in over sixty years he would be in bed alone.