The Wayback

**Mentions of substance abuse, death of a loved one and child endangerment. All of these are brief and needed to bring the story forward.

Kate pulled into the driveway of her childhood home and put the car in park. Driving for days left Kate longing for a hot bath and a comfy bed. They were a long way from Los Angeles. Kate had moved back with her 17-year-old son, Kyle, to take care of her father, Hank. Hank was in the late stages of dementia. Kate lived with her father after Kyle was born, but they left quickly one evening. She hated the reason for her departure. Her father had a drinking problem and was supposed to be watching Kyle, who was only 3. He passed out, and Kyle wandered outside. When Kate got home, she found Kyle on the beach, playing in the sand, the water ankle-deep. Thankfully, nothing happened, but Kate was furious because Kyle could have drowned. Hank was out of chances.

After finding Kyle outside alone, Kate packed her car and drove straight to LA to live with her mom and stepdad. She got back on her feet and created a comfortable life in California. She allowed Kyle to see his grandfather every summer. Their visits rarely lasted a weekend.

Kate noticed on her last visit a couple of years ago that Hank was unwell, and she took him to the doctor. Testing revealed dementia, and he needed full-time care. Kate hired a live-in nurse named Carla, but about a month ago, she announced her retirement and the need to find someone to replace her. Kate decided she would be the replacement. She was thankful Kyle had been a good sport.

With a deep sigh, Kate admitted, “I understand this situation is far from perfect. I’m grateful you sacrificed your senior year to be here for your grandpa. I need to be here right now.”

Kyle had mixed feelings about being in Minnesota. Everything was so different, and he missed his friends. Leaving was challenging, yet a deep desire stirred within him to connect with his grandfather. Hank saw them on multiple occasions. The visits never lasted long.

“Mom, it’s alright. I want to help,” Kyle smiled.

“Great! I’m sorry we haven’t visited more often.” Kate trailed off.

“I wish we could have visited more too,” Kyle admitted. “We are here now, though. Why don’t we make the best of it?” Kyle smiled at his mom.

Carla waved as Kate, Kyle, and Bruno, a goofy chocolate lab, approached the house.

“Such a wise old soul you are. Why don’t you go say hello to your grandfather while I talk to Carla about Hank’s care. His bedroom is the last bedroom.”

Carla greeted Kate, and they made their way to the living room to discuss Hank’s care. Kyle walked to the end of the hallway and entered his grandfather’s bedroom. As he stood in the doorway, Kyle observed the room. Thick curtains blocked out any sunlight from making its way into his room. The oak floor, which once held a giant rug, is bare to prevent accidental trips. His grandfather is in a hospital bed with rails. His shelves, which once held books, trophies, and other knickknacks, were empty; replaced with a plastic cup and a straw. All around the room are signs: CLOTHING, BATHROOM, CHAIR. These helped Hank remember what things were. Kyle noticed there were two photos hanging. One was of his mom and one of him. Big labels: DAUGHTER: KATE and GRANDSON: KYLE. Kyle understood this was because his grandfather had little memory of who they were. He stepped into the room, and the smell of antiseptics and a faint, stale hospital smell met his nose. Kyle walks toward his grandfather; the old oak floors creaked under his feet.

As Kyle approaches his grandfather, Hank opens his eyes and smiles. “Joshua, it’s so nice to see you.” Kyle realized he was being mistaken for his uncle, who died in an awful accident a long time ago.

“Eh, hi. How are you?” Kyle hesitates. He thought it’s not the best idea to correct someone with dementia. The goal is to keep them happy. Kyle decided it was best to go along with it. Maybe if he pretended, it would make it easier for his grandfather to talk about his life. Share his memories before they are gone forever. They spent a few minutes chatting before Hank fell asleep. Kyle got up and left. Hank didn’t recognize him and he wondered what they signed up for.

“Hey mom! I am going to explore the woods with Bruno. I’ll be back later.”

“Okay, sweetie. I had a lot of fun in those woods. Just get home before the sun goes down,” she winked.

“Let’s go, Bruno!” Kyle brought the leash but preferred to walk Bruno off the leash, something he couldn’t do often in LA. He hadn’t wanted to move to Lost Lake. He would much rather finish his senior year with his friends. He was going to miss the beaches of Los Angeles, his friends, and the sunshine.

There was something uniquely special about Minnesota. It was quiet here, and everything was so green. He couldn’t wait to explore the woods of northern Minnesota. His mother grew up in these woods. She told him tales of building forts, chasing frogs, and catching crawfish.

It was a perfect summer day. Not a cloud in the sky, perfect temperature, sunny and with little wind. He could smell the pine trees; their thick branches protected him from the sun. Leaves crunched under Kyle’s feet on the path. The birds’ songs filled the air, accompanied by the cicadas’ loud calls. The forest sounds were a stark contrast to the constant hum of Los Angeles.

Bruno’s ears perked up, and he slowed.

“What is it, Bruno? Do you hear something?” Kyle asked, his curiosity sparked.

Bruno suddenly took off running. His expression was laser-focused.

“Bruno! Heel!” Kyle shouted as he chased Bruno, who completely ignored him. Kyle picked up his pace. “Bruno! Wait! Stop! HEEL!” he shouted. Kyle was so focused on catching Bruno that he missed the tree root and tripped. He face-planted as if he were trying to tackle the earth itself. He found himself covered in dirt, sticks, and leaves. When he sat up, Bruno was about 100 feet up on the trail. Relieved, he stood up, brushed himself off as best he could. Some dirt lingered on his jeans as he walked toward Bruno.

“Seriously, Bruno! What was that? Just leave me here to die in the woods all alone?” Kyle let out a heavy sigh. “We should head back. Getting lost worries me. Come on, Bruno,” Kyle turned to head back home when Bruno barked frantically.

“Okay. Fine,” Kyle turned back to leash Bruno when he took off again. “Not again! Ugh! Bruno!” He was sore from the fall and the long drive. This wasn’t helping.

This time Bruno didn’t go far. Near the trail lay a homemade structure, ten by ten feet. Someone stacked long, horizontal logs on top of one another. There were logs that were vertical, which helped the keep the structure stable. Sticks and straw formed the roof. The structure even had a door. A sign next to the door said, The Wayback: No adults allowed! A belly laugh burst out of Kyle, catching him so off-guard that he actually snorted.

“Bruno, I think you found Mom’s old fort.” Kyle laughed. He walked into The Wayback and froze. His brain struggled to comprehend what he was seeing. It didn’t belong. Tucked in the fort's corner sat a bulky old TV. The TV being inside the fort wasn’t the strange part. The TV was a frantic sea of white and black specks. It felt like chaos. Stranger still, the TV had no plugs connected. There wasn’t even a cord. It was working without electricity.

“What is going on?” Kyle asked, walking toward the TV. His foot hit something, and he looked down. Covering the floor are hundreds of VHS tapes. He only knows that’s what they are because his mom once showed him old millennial artifacts from the late 1900s.

Kyle walked toward the TV, careful not to step on any of the tapes when he noticed a rolled-up note sitting next to the TV. He picked it up and read:

Welcome to The Wayback. This is a magical place of forgotten memories. For centuries, our loved ones have lived on through the stories they tell. These stories are memories that keep their spirit alive. They make us feel more connected to those we love. You wish to learn more about your grandfather; he doesn’t have much time left, and his memories and stories matter. These tapes are those lost memories. These memories are waiting to be told. Forgotten but important.

Kyle’s vision blurred as tears filled his eyes. His lifelong yearning was for a greater understanding of his grandfather. But the stories were sparse. He lived his first three years here, yet recalls nothing. They visited every year since moving across the country. Visits were brief and never allowed him to truly know his grandfather. The floor was a carpet of VHS tapes, their faded plastic cases piled up. He picked one up, and his eyes fell upon the faded label: “My Love.”

Without delay, Kyle placed the tape in the VCR and hit play. The screen crackled with static, and Kyle felt a tingly feeling throughout his whole body. His body felt electrified, as if it had static. Unsure of the situation, he felt no danger. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, a field of sunflowers surrounded him. Younger versions of his grandparents stood in the field. Hank wore a blue button-down shirt and a pair of tan khakis. Hazel wore an orange dress, buttons on the top and a pleated bottom. She looked gorgeous. Hank’s 1955 Ford Fairlane Victoria sat by the roadside, its radio blaring Chuck Berry tunes. The sound of music filled the air as his grandparents danced. Hazel’s dress fanned out as they spun in circles. Hank held Hazel close. Kyle watched, a silent observer.

Hank kissed her forehead. “I love you deeply," he breathed. “We’ll get married. I will take care of you and our baby.”

“I’m really afraid. My parents are so upset with me and I don’t know how to fix it,” Hazel wiped her eyes.

“Once the wedding happens, and the baby is born, they will accept it.” Hank says, his voice warm as he pulled her into a hug, her cheek resting on his shoulder. “Will you marry me?”

"Absolutely," Hazel responded with confidence.

Kyle watched his grandparents for a long time. They sat with the sunflowers for hours. There was a lot of laughter, and Kyle felt so much love watching them. As the memory ended, Kyle felt his body fill with static and he returned to The Wayback.

“Wow, Bruno, that was incredible. I think I saw one of Grandpa’s memories.” Kyle glanced at his watch. His brief absence felt like hours, but only minutes had passed. He scans the floor, desperate to watch more. It was a mess and needed to be organized before he went any further. He spent the next hour stacking the tapes, Bruno sitting by his side. When he finished, he made the walk back home. Eager to go back the next day.

Over the next few weeks, Kyle returned to The Wayback. Kyle, the silent observer, witnessed life’s milestones: weddings, the arrival of babies, and the pride of first jobs. He also cherished the everyday moments: shared dinners, family getaways, and the applause at school plays. There were hard memories to experience; death of loved ones, lost relationships, arguments, fights, his grandfather’s drinking problem. Josh’s death and the aftermath had been hard to witness; they plagued his grandfather's mind. Every memory, even the hard ones, deepened his love for his grandfather, fostering a stronger connection.

Over the next year, Kyle returned to The Wayback to watch the videos. The memories helped him feel more connected to his grandfather. There were days the interactions with Hank improved, and Hank recognized him as Kyle. On hard days, he didn’t. Hank experiences more good days than bad ones, a fact that brought joy to everyone.

Over the next year, Hank’s health deteriorated. Kate and Kyle sat by his bedside as he took his last breath, a smile on his face. In the end, it was the pneumonia. It was devastating. Though Hank was gone from the physical world, Kyle’s connection to the forgotten memories would keep his spirit alive.

Kyle walked to The Wayback, feeling Hank’s presence the closer he got to the fort. When he arrived, the fort was empty. The magic TV with forgotten memories was gone, replaced by another note.

In diverse cultures, stories and recollections serve more than just entertainment. These memories keep a person alive. There is a common belief that a person dies twice. The death of the body and the death of memory when your name is no longer spoken. Hank’s spirit will live on through you.

Kyle wiped a tear from his eye, folded the paper, and put it in his pocket. He sat at The Wayback, thinking about Hank until sunset, grateful for the extra time he had with his grandfather. He will treasure it forever.