“Someday”,
Someday
Someday I will have a job. A good job. Not at the Dairy Queen across the street, a good job. Someday that job will get me a promotion, and I’ll have an even better job. Talk to these clients, will you, Ryan? Fax these documents for me, will you, Ryan? my boss will say, and drop papers on my desk, but I won’t care. I’ll love it. I’ll make money, and drive a good, working car. I won’t have to take the bus, no, no. Someday I will move away from the cramped blue apartment on North Street and into the duplex. It’ll be brown, or white. White is a nice colour to look at. Someday that duplex will come with backyard space. No more going to the park to play in the sun—just right out there! Someday I will have children and they will play in that space, and a wife who I will love like no tomorrow. Someday after that they’ll grow up and get good jobs like I did, and I’ll grow grey hairs, and live out my final bits of fun. Someday I will write a will, but it will be simple, simpler than many I’ve seen. Someday after that it will be my end, my end, an end to my somedays.