I wanted one evening where no one asked me to remember tomorrow

Dear Delyara, Not the PE kit. Not the dentist. Not the money for school photos. Not the lunch order. Not the weather forecast. Not the early meeting. Not the bag by the door. Not the charger. Not the shoes. Not the reminder to remind someone else. I wanted one evening that remained tonight. That didn’t happen. Some form of tomorrow entered the room every twenty minutes. I think that’s why evenings often don’t feel like evenings anymore. They feel like unofficial preparation zones for the next round of responsibility. The future arrives too early and sits in the room while you’re still trying to finish the present.