Tomorrow...

Tomorrow. . .

         Tonight, as I listen to the calming strains of David Sanborn's "Daydreaming," my mind strays to thoughts of tomorrow. Strictly speaking, what is tomorrow? Naught but another day in a succession of many such days.

         But to me? Is it something more? Oh yes, much more. For tomorrow brings with it a new beginning and an ending. The end of my life as a child and the beginning of my adulthood.

         What does this mean? Tomorrow the world will classify me as an adult. Does this mean I must 'put away childish things?' Must I stop acting childish? Stop thinking childish thoughts? Can I no longer play with crayons or watch in fascination as a bee does something I have never seen one do before? Must I stop giggling at things found in my calculus book and stop wearing 'grr' socks? Should I instead, from tomorrow forward, do only the sensible thing?

         Oh tomorrow, how I curse the implied changes you hold! What shall I do? Sit by complacently and let these changes come? I pray no! I shall resist! Tomorrow, I rebel against you! Though you may add another year to my age, you do nothing more. Tomorrow, I will not let you change me.