Someday, we’re going to own a couch that doesn’t have Goldfish crumbs embedded into every fiber. One with cushions that still hold their shape rather than being trampled down and beaten by toddlers whose favorite pastime is tumbling across them.
Someday, our windows won’t have tiny fingerprints covering every square inch of their glass.
Someday, I’ll go a full day without scolding, or teaching, or sighing in frustration.
Someday, the clothes I’ve folded and put away will remain folded and put away until they’re called upon.
Someday, the trash won’t fill so quickly, and the fridge won’t empty so fast, and the dishwasher won’t need run so often, and the hamper won’t always be overflowing.
Someday, the hubby and I will sit down to a movie and actually watch it in its entirety without being interrupted or falling asleep halfway through from the wear and tear of this season.
Someday, the never-ending cycle of my days won’t loop quite so fast, leaving me exhausted in its wake.
Someday, I’ll drink a hot cup of coffee over a quiet breakfast and breathe in the stillness of the morning without little cries demanding my attention.
And someday, I’m going to look back and wonder why the heck I ever thought any of those things were so important, when the only thing that ever really mattered all along was having my family under one roof and my babies tucked safely in my arms where they belong.
Someday, I’m going to long for all that I have now—in this tiring, overwhelming, beautiful, frustrating, demanding, all-consuming moment—with a fierceness that will radiate in the depths of my soul.
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