Today is the same day as last week. The same day as yesterday and last year. Today is the same day as she’s done before. She has checked every box and completed every challenge, and yet, today faces her once again.
Her eyes open in a familiar way, her body moves as though in a haze. She doesn’t even have to think. Limbs reach out and brush her hair, she’s pretty sure the arms are hers. Legs march with melancholy to the same rhythm that her feet have beaten over the years. The girl who stares back at her in the mirror looks similar, but her hair is longer, and her eyes are deeper. Time has affected the girl in the mirror, but the girl who looks in is untouched.
She has done today so many times, and yet it chases her still. Like an ever-spinning waterwheel in a solemn pool. Frantically the wheel scoops water with outreaching arms, following the rhythm of the cycling water. But with every turn, it cradles the same shallow pool of water, its vigorous spinning only whirling to say it has spun.
The same day flows through her arms, again, again, and again. No matter how she tries, she cannot stop its stream. The girl wakes, dresses, leaves, goes home, and sleeps. Still, she has joy in her life; there are stars that sparkle in her endless sky. She has friends she sees when their rivers intertwine, for they all follow their stream with optimistic delight, but they cycle back every night. Every day that she wakes, she yearns to check if Time has visited, but he never does. Every day that she wakes, her heart sags to find today is still last week, yesterday, and last year.
Sometimes she wakes on a different day. When her mind searches for the familiar pattern to follow, it draws a blank. The day’s firm hold pulls away so that she may make today a day that she creates. When those days come, she wakes herself. Her legs become her own, and her mind opens its eyes. Her stream has hit a boulder, and now, it arches slowly, breaking the ground before her so it can keep flowing. Those days, Time awakes and allows her to keep moving. Those days, her waterwheel powers something that keeps growing. Time touches her shoulder softly, reminding her today is new. Time’s touch is something she treasures but rarely feels. She has cracked the endless glass that laces her memories. Her limbs pound eagerly, letting the crack create a spider web across the dusty panes. It’s been so long since she last left her somber cycle. Yet, as she stretches her legs on the new land, she finds the world is so much clearer. As every second ticks by, she hears it in her heart, and she knows that Time is with her. She treasures every second, minute, and hour, for they are hers, and she is theirs.
But once the day has left, and her head lays on the familiar pillow that night, her new day fades into memory. She finds herself waving goodbye to her old friend Time, waiting to see him another day.
Yet, once she wakes, she finds herself flowing down her familiar river, but two small streams appear, branching from the water’s source. Her mind tells her to explore them and seek out their secrets, but before she can approach them, the current snatches her. She drifts down its stream; its water splashes in rhythm with the waves. She knows she’ll only cycle back, and perhaps those streams will wait for her.
Then today appears.
The same day. The same day as last week, yesterday, and last year. 24 hours feels so long, but her endless day is longer. Today is last week. Today is yesterday. Today is last year. At least, for now.
