The magical device will be just for us. It’ll work simply as pouring water between two glasses.
Sneaking you from the hospital will be the hardest part. I’ll set the dial, let you pull the lever. We’ll start slowly—the moon shrinking across the viewscreen like a dollop of butter in a skillet. Taking the scenic route, we’ll watch icebergs rock toward the poles, bare trees explode with color. We’ll count down the years as we zero in on your backyard. I promise—if you had a tire swing, it will be there. And your feet won’t even reach the ground.