The Myth of Someday
Emily Sheremeta
Right now, walking the dog, you think, maybe this memory will resurface eventually for no particular reason. It will not be perfectly preserved. No one will wrap it in acid-free paper and keep it dry for you. But maybe the smell of the fresh cut grass or the way the dog’s legs seem too small to support the rest of him will seep into an afterthought an impossible decade later. Who knows what you will be doing then or who you might be? You might be standing solidly in your new present watching someone mow his useless lawn, and that will be enough to call to mind how the dog trundles a little too far ahead, forever just out of reach if you keep going at your pace, before pausing at the edge of someone else’s fence and lifting his leg.
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