Time Travelling at the Speed of Light

Schumann entered the front door of his house, no longer concerned with his earlier, strange experience. He was humming a tune, making it up as he went along. However, upon crossing before the parlor door he was stunned, and stopped his transit.

The great Herr Wieck, his estranged father-in-law, sat in the room’s largest armchair. He held Schumann’s youngest child cradled on his lap. The toddler, oblivious, was cooing away while pulling against his grandfather’s shirt buttons.

Both men, neither expecting to see the other, were rendered quite speechless. Herr Wieck had expected Schumann to be long returned to his office, his noon meal over hours ago. Schumann had expected that Herr Wieck would arrive much later in the afternoon, long after his luncheon had been eaten.

Nevertheless, here they both were.

Schumann reacted first. Germans were a notoriously stiff people, but they knew their manners. He first straightened, and then quickly bobbed his head towards the seated figure.

“Maestro,” he said to the older musician.

Herr Wieck had long pondered what he would say if the two of them once again met. He hadn’t arrived at any satisfactory answer. Currently, that didn’t matter.

“Robert,” he said, his eyes pooling, “just call me Papa.”

It took a few moments for Schumann to react. In truth, he had wished for reconciliation often, but hadn’t known how to achieve it. Now it had been offered freely.

He burst into tears. Herr Wieck was crying outright as well, also in joyous relief. The baby, still oblivious, cooed on.