When This Is Over
By John Affleck
When this is over I’ll stop trying new things and stick to what I’m good at.
When this is over I’ll make a gin and tonic with extra ice, lime and gin.
When this is over I will never, ever sit on the porch looking at the sunset with a smug expression on my face and a mug of instant coffee in my hand. Because I don’t drink instant.
When this is over I’ll never use the following words: fake, gratitude, night-vision goggles.
When this is over I’ll pin the speedometer, which is digital.
When this is over I’ll run far away, and only come back because I can’t stand to wake up and not see your face.
When this is over I’ll wonder what the point was.
When this is over I’ll do something about it.
When this is over I’ll hug everyone I love and unfriend everyone I don’t.
When this is over I’ll keep on walking.
When this is over I’ll wake before dawn and drive to a 35-hundred-foot mountain covered in oak and maple and hemlock, and I will climb that mountain with my lover to watch the sun rise as we sip mimosas. Actually, I’m just fuckin’ with you. I’ll roll out of bed, feed the cats, make a bunch of coffee and search Netflix.
When this is over about 92 percent of my daily routine will be exactly the same.
When this is over I’ll still be haunted by the sight of the three-legged gray tabby, regal in bearing, that walks across the field in front of the house.
When this is over I’ll look at the mail again.
When this is over I’ll feel different about prisons.
When this is over I’ll have to find something else to die of.
When this is over I’ll buy my first new sneakers in about a decade. Jordans.
When this is over I’ll feed the hungry, clothe the naked, stop using Amazon, stop eating meat, flash my license, buy an automatic weapon, join a redneck militia and mess with the algorithm.
When this is over I’ll count the change I’ve been saving in a rusted Chock Full o’ Nuts coffee can.
When this is over I’ll plant a few trees and see what comes to live in them.
When this is over I’ll give up desserts, run more, lift more, pay the price and still be slow.
When this is over we’ll go back in time and watch Oswald shoot Kennedy. It’ll happen again, there’s nothing we can do.
When this is over bars and restaurants will still feel dirty.
When this is over I’ll be wiser and better-prepared for next time, which will be completely different. Like 1940.
When this is over I’ll protest.
When this is over I’ll bury that dead stink bug now splayed on the screen door to stop me thinking about the martyrs.
When this is over I’ll clean the grill.
When this is over I’ll start working on a sequel that’s sexier, with more explosions and CGI.
When this is over I’ll go see the Mapplethorpe retrospective to find out if he’s still provocative, or just quaint and more than occasionally beautiful.
When this is over I’ll shave.
When this is over I’ll solve that chicken, fox, corn, small-boat-and-a-river puzzle thing.
When this is over I’ll go wilderness camping with nothing but a jack knife, a lighter, an egg, an orange, and a Walmart about 400 metres away.
When this is over, I’ll be old. But comforted in the knowledge that you’ll be older, too.
