Yesterday was high school summer vacation, green and empty of responsibility. Yesterday I pushed a grape Jolly Rancher from cheek to cheek. Yesterday I sorted my Pokémon cards, putting the holographic ones in their own special pile. Yesterday dad brought home McDonald’s French fries for lunch. Yesterday his breath reeked of stale Bud Light as he said: “Enjoy them while you can.” Yesterday was freshly cut grass and pedaling my Huffy to meet a friend. Yesterday my buddy Jake tossed me a football. Yesterday we sat on aluminum bleachers, comparing our upcoming class schedules. Yesterday, sweaty, we performed our secret handshake. Yesterday smelled like moonlight and singing cicadas. Yesterday I went to bed knowing tomorrow would be more of the same. 

Today vacation lasts two weeks max. Today I can’t eat hard candy, bad teeth. Today my Pokémon card collection has been either lost, sold, or forgotten. Today McDonald’s gives me heartburn; plus, I’m counting calories. Today dad’s breath smells like an elixir of pills and syrups. Today I drive a Toyota Camry that leaks oil. Today no one tosses me anything ever. Today I work on one side of the country and Jake on another. Today I only remember the exploding fists at the end. Today I can’t hear the cicadas sing; my ears aren’t tuned to them. Today is just another day.

Tomorrow I’ll quit. Tomorrow I’ll try Jolly Rancher gummies. Tomorrow I’ll buy a holographic Charizard. Tomorrow I’ll order spicy McNuggets, a roll of Rolaids in my pocket protecting me. Tomorrow I’ll sneak dad a thimble of beer. Tomorrow I’ll trade in the Toyota Camry for a plane ticket. Tomorrow I’ll toss everything everywhere. Tomorrow I’ll fly to the other side of the country. Tomorrow I’ll explode my fist and apologize for forgetting the rest. Tomorrow I’ll tune in to all the channels. Tomorrow will be like yesterday. Tomorrow won’t be today.