Same Field, Different Games
It’ll be over soon.
I can feel it.
We’ll be out of here and nothing else about this place will matter.
There’s little here anymore.
Mainly pain and foul memories and fear.
We’ll start fresh, I tell myself.
It will be the second or third or fourth fresh start — depending on how you look at it.
But this time will be different, I’m sure of it.
I’ll do things better this time.
I’ll only do things with intention.
I’ll be a better mom, a better wife, a better friend.
I’ll only take on new friendships that will challenge me and help me grow, and ones where I can do the same for another—real friendships.
That’s what I said when we bought our house and moved here, I know.
I said would stop making the same mistakes again and again.
Yet here I am, making the same friends, breaking the same bonds.
Here I am repeating everything in different ways because I did get older and little bit smarter, but the playing field was laid out in all the same ways.
I fell back in, again.
Not this time, I promise myself.
This time will be different.
I’ll come up with a set of rules — not normal rules, rules that will work.
I’ll come up with positive, progressive rules to help myself shift the layout of the new playing field.
It can happen, I know.
It will happen, I can feel it.
(It’ll all be over soon.)