Someday. Someday, Someday…

Someday, maybe, I’ll look back at these days and think to myself that I did the right thing.

Maybe, someday, I’ll stop imagining what might have been if I hadn’t divorced him, hadn’t kissed him, hadn’t touched him.

You’d think that someday, I’d stop thinking that it’s so funny that one day I opened a door to a boy and that door never shut. it just keeps revolving. Bringing the wrong ones through it.

Maybe I’ll even tell my daughter these stories. Cautionary tales, funny anecdotes. Maybe she’ll think I was a bad girl. Scandalous. Reckless. I’ll never let on that I was just lonely and trying to do right. Do right by my own mother while trying to be everything but her. Yet I see the same lines in our faces. The same straight spine when someone tries to tell me what to do. Inevitable.

Somedays…