When Tomorrow Comes

Day in, day out, it’s always the same. Lying awake dreaming. Every waking moment dreaming. Dreaming about Everything: being at home, playing with my brother, Jesse, again, riding on my horse, Rocky Road, lying under the tree by the lake watching the sunset without a care in the world. I need to dream. I guess it’s all I have left. Jesse doesn’t understand. He’s too young and free. He always asks me when I can come and play again. He says he and Rocky Road are waiting and, believe me, all I want to do is go with him. But all I can do is respond with, “When tomorrow comes, we’ll see.” But every ‘tomorrow’ becomes today too soon, so I just dream. I dream that when tommorow comes, I’ll be better. They will have found a cure. When tomorrow comes, I’ll be strong enough to ride Rocky Road and swim in the lake with Jesse and pick daisies and roll down the big hill and climb the tree by the lake. Sometimes I even dream of going back to school. And when tomorrow comes, maybe I will, but, as for today, I can only dream.

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