Someday, I want a black ’67 Chevy Impala and enough vacation days to drive her from coast to coast. I want every breed of dog and half a dozen horses, as well as a longhorn cow to call Coya. Someday, I want to watch the Sox play from atop the Green Monster. I want three kids and only one husband, and I want to take annual trips to Key West for the Songwriter’s Festival. I want there to be a Friends reunion special too. And I want to see the northern lights in person instead of just in Balto.

Someday, I want to look back and not remember every last one of the sharp edges. I want to be able to call him my soulmate and not have to worry about the consequences. I want to love hard again. Someday, I want to buy a beat-up pawn shop guitar and write a song about a man who never hurt me. I want to learn someone else’s favorite barbecue sauce. I want to show up to someone’s lunch break with a picnic basket and a toddler. Someday, I want to have a family and a life that I’m not scared of.

Someday, I hope to feel as though I’ve done enough. I want to truly believe I’ve made an impact on someone, anyone. I want to go without still hoping for closure. Someday, I want poetry read at my funeral instead of scripture. I want to have said goodbye and made peace with myself and made a hell on earth for my demons. Someday, I want to die knowing I got exactly what I needed and perhaps a little of what I wanted.


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