SOMEDAY

The past ends when the bruises heal.

After the cuts become scabs, and the scabs fall off and the scars fade.

The past ends when your memory can only hold so much and, in the years since then, it begins holding what is recent and lets go of the threats, the insults, the fears of another time.

The past ends when the visions of hoplessness are not as clear as when you lived there. They are grainy, muted, almost like something that happened to someone else who merely told you about it.

It ends. It has to end. Right?

Then the present begins... as soon as you feel "today" not struggling to breathe under all the layers of yesterday.

That will happen someday. The past will be over.

Won't it?