I look at the wall and see the calendar. August 10, 2045. To the right is a cracked mirror that shows the face of an old and wrinkled man who has no idea of how he got here, what the years have done.

To the right of the mirror is that haunting portrait; a clown in macabre makeup, with the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen.

The clown has one upraised hand holding a timepiece.

That timepiece holds all the power over my life.

A clock's pendulum swings back and forth.

So must the Pendulum of Time itself.

Sometimes it looks like the clown is holding it one way, and then I am a lad of twenty, and the calendar reads August 10, 1985. My mind seems to know I am becoming an adult, and my heart is seeking for the love to shape my years ahead.

Today, I am a young man once more, and I am at the County Fair in Griswold.

For the moment, I have no thought of my older years, and the former years that brought me to this point in time are a blank. It is as if I’ve always been twenty years old and Time itself is guiding me to her.

It’s the first glimpse I’ve had of her, yet it somehow feels like this scene has occurred over and over again throughout the Sands of Time. As if we are meant to be together, yet strangely distanced by a quirk of Time, and only the moments of this day have any permanence.

She was a breathtaking  blonde, hair done up in a mullet. She had a stylish beige print mini dress, hoop earrings, and a lacy white vest.

I first saw her afar off, but, as if Time itself were pushing me forward, I found myself standing by her and struggling for words.

Again, Time seemed to be pushing us, shoving us forward, and not recalling how we got there or how it happened, we were holding hands and strolling along the fair grounds.

Her name was Elena.

Elena, Elena, Elena, how my heart beat the name!

The sun itself seemed to be dancing upon us and the warmth of her gentle touch was all I could ever ask for in this crazy world.

My vision was clouded by the love I felt.

The children ran by us with their cotton candy and laughter, but all I saw were rainbow colored clouds swirling gently about us.

We went on the carousel. Rather than ride one of the horses, we sat in one of the stationary seats, fashioned like a Roman chariot, and held each other tightly as if even a whisp of wind would wither our love.  I tasted the sweetness of her lips.

When the ride was over, we walked to a souvenir stand.

I bought a Mizpah Chain and put half around her neck, and the other half around mine.

“This is so The Lord will watch between me and thee, when we are absent from one another,” I said.

“I love you!” she returned.

Time once more seemed to be scurrying, as if it discovered its fault and needed to correct things.

The last thing I remember was the twinkling of the stars, as I gazed into the beauty of her eyes.

The Clown is holding the timepiece in another direction now. The calendar reads August 10, 2045.

My room seems even smaller.

There is a sound of distant coughing and crying from a hallway outside my door.

I slowly step into the hall.

I know where I am.

Where all the old folks go.

No idea of how I got here, anything of the years in between.

I feel that nudge of Time once more. It tells me to enter an adjacent room.

The wrinkled old lady lay there with her hair a mess of clumps to hide the bald spots and her breathing was very labored.

On her neck, the other half of my Mizpah.

Time at last is shutting its door on me.