Dearest Rachel –
I’d thank you and Kevin for the visit, but as it wasn’t even long enough for me to react to your presence, I don’t know how worthwhile it was for the two of you to bother making a cameo appearance in my dreams last night.
I think we were wandering the corridors within an beneath Wrigley Field; we had arrived early enough to watch the boys of summer warm up before the game, and were making our way to our box(!) seats. At least, I think that’s what was going on; I was mostly focused on trying to keep up with you, as you were so far ahead of me that I would barely catch a glimpse of you before you would turn a corner and disappear again, leaving me to nearly run before I would lose you completely. Had this been real life, I would have had my own ticket, and could have just made my way to my seat on my own, trusting that you’d either be already there, or that you’d run on ahead to use the washroom. In either case, I wouldn’t need to worry about getting temporarily separated, as we were to be sitting next to each other soon enough.
But I don’t recall having had that ability, so I had to rush to keep up with you. Occasionally, I would find myself wondering why you were hurrying on so; while you indulged my fandom with the Cubs, it was clearly an adopted thing for you. It was one of those things where you were happy in the moment because I was, rather than enjoying it for its own sake. Oblivious to other’s feelings as I usually am, even I could tell that was your attitude towards sportsball in general, and ultimately ended up giving up any interest in it. Granted, it helps that most Chicago sportsball teams aren’t particularly much good (aside from that one magical year of 2016).
My point is, you running on ahead seemed odd, and I had difficulty both in maintaining your pace and understanding why you were in such a hurry.
But eventually, we found our seats, and not only were you there, but so was Kevin. The weird thing was, this felt like some time in the past, except I already knew what was going to happen. I didn’t know how to react to the sight of the both of you, knowing that I was never going to see either of you again (except in a similar situation as this). I just stood there, staring at the two of you in your seats, while the two of you looked at me quizzically. Clearly, I had seen your future – or I was visiting my past – and you two were in the moment, unaware of what lay ahead.
Of course, dreams do what they do, and before I could decide what to say, or who to hug first – and parse out how either of you might react to my sudden emotional outburst – everything faded, and I found myself in my usual half-lying, half-reclining position in bed as I listened to the various birds in the backyard yelling at each other to stay out of their individual territory.
***
That was, perhaps, my mind’s way of setting me up for a full day at the ‘office,’ to be spent restating history. Not rewriting it, mind you – as your beloved Doctor would remind us both, there are certain moments in time that are ‘fixed points,’ that cannot be changed. Of course, for those of us in the more prosaic world that is basic reality (as opposed to the fictional sci-fi milleu he inhabits), that’s basically every moment in time. Your accident, Kevin’s crash and the purchase of this or that large and enduring item for church; they’re all the same, in that they happened, and there’s no changing that. But what I can do is describe them differently for different audiences.
I’ve probably described the process to you before, but let me see if I can summarize it before your eyes glaze over (look, I know my profession’s reputation, and have spent my life running from it, but you would always ask about my day, so, here it is) The elders always want to see what has been spent in the course of any given fiscal year, so as to plan what they need to take in to cover those expenditures. That’s the basic structure of a budget, and it works regardless of scale, be it one’s personal life, one’s business, or (theoretically) an entire country. The only difference is that on that last, the folks running the place sometimes think that they can just print the money they need, only to be surprised when the basic goods and services they’re trying to obtain suddenly cost that much more. But never mind that.
But for the sake of reporting to the elders, I show all of these expenditures as expenses, as they want to see it. The trouble is, some of those expenditures… aren’t expenses. They’re buying big-ticket stuff that will last for years. Upgrades to the buildings, new furniture, equipment. By the rules of my profession, these belong on our balance sheet; the list of things we own and owe.
So, now that the fiscal year is over, I have to adjust those transactions to reflect where they’re supposed to be. I don’t change what happened – there are so many other things that have transpired in my lifetime that I’d change first if I were capable – so much as I change how it’s recorded. History doesn’t change here; just how people (specifically, our auditors) will look at it.
So, for the first time in weeks – actually, more like months – I’ll be at the ‘office’ for the entire day, rather than checking out early to meet someone or do some shopping or working out. It’s not hard work (well, not for me, anyway), but it will take more time that what I usually do. So keep an eye on me, honey, and wish me luck; I’m going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 