I often hear people say, “Someday.”

Someday I’ll change direction. Someday I’ll try something else. Someday I’ll start living more like myself.

I don’t need to argue with it. Everyone is free to live exactly as they choose.

Still, I find myself thinking about it.

Freedom has always been vilse in me, even if took years before I fully dared to live it. Not dramatically. Just in small, steady steps.

Maybe that’s why I notice the word.

Not with frustration. Not even with concern.

More as a quiet observation of how differently we carry our lives.

Some people seem content within very defined frames. Others feel the need to stretch them. Neither is morally superior.

But “someday” fascinates me.

Because it holds both hope and postponement at the same time.

And sometimes I wonder how many lives are lived almost fully – just slightly delayed.