51. Time capsule

This evening we watched the second episode of the newest season of the Great British Baking Show, with a focus on biscuits (i.e., cookies). The showstopper involved creating a time capsule plus five self-defining things to plant in said capsule. Many of the bakers included dogs (we all love our dogs!); there was a fish for enjoying fishing; one woman had a marvelous articulated figure of herself on the GBBS; another included a portrait of her parents, back in Sri Lanka. 

Which got me to thinking about what I might include. 

Milo—of course: we all love our dogs!

a pair of hiking boots—for my love of climbing, mountaineering, hiking, walking 

a book—for my career as an editor, for my love of reading

an airplane—for all the travel I've done, most of it by plane

I'm not sure about number 5, though. 

What do I love? It's a real question.

I asked David what his five would be, and he began with Milo (of course!), on to music and math, then for his fifth he went for a heart—a heart for his love for me. Um, no. Maybe a heart for being alive and, hopefully, appreciating that fact. But for me? 

Sure, sure, sure, we're each other's helpmeet, support, partner, love. But it feels somehow trivializing to try to render all that as an object in a time capsule. Plus, what does the fact that we're each other's spouse really say about us? (Okay, I suppose you could say the same of putting Milo as number 1. But then again, maybe Milo represents something bigger, that is also encompassed by a heart: love, caring, our capacity for connection and devotion.)

Okay, I've given it two seconds of thought, and I think my number 5 will be a cloud. A cloud for beauty, for life-giving rain and blanketing snow, for evanescence, for the hugeness of the sky, for the cooling shadow that's created when the sun moves behind a cloud on a hot day, for all the creatures and stories we find in clouds when lying on our back on a hot slab of granite letting our imagination fly, for this amazing earth without which I wouldn't exist. 

Though like a cloud, I might change (my mind) entirely if I ever actually have to do anything as taxing as plant five tokens of my self in anything as optimistic as a time capsule.