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One Day

Amy Roman


One day I will have a clean couch to sit upon---one that does not have three piles of laundry on it or a cushion missing because it is sitting out in the sun to disinfect pee.  Maybe one day I will have furniture that does not have crayon marks, vomit stains or missing hardware.  One day I will have a bed that only my husband and I share; not one with a child kicking me in the back and another on top of my husband.  One day bed time will actually mean I go to bed.  I won't have to listen to children crying that they need water or need to pee one more time or are scared by themselves.  I won't have to sit in the hallway making the threat, “Go to sleep or else!”  Perhaps one day I won't have to run the dishwasher twice a day or the washing machine every day.  Maybe I will enjoy my dinner that I prepare without hearing complaints of it being yucky.  I imagine the day will come that I can actually garden, write, read, take long baths and just be still.

I long for these days.  Then I remember that when that day comes, there will be three fewer  people filling our home.  I won't hear giggling in the bubble baths.  I won't cheer for my son playing baseball or see my daughter jumping on the trampoline with her little sister.  There will be no more pushing swings, girlfriend sleepovers, or kissing boo-boos.  I won't see the joy on their faces Christmas morning.  I won't be able to look at their faces as they sleep or kiss them goodnight.

So, I try to live in this moment.  I try to remember that one day is not too far