Yesterday and tomorrow

Yesterday, I was wearing sneakers.
Tomorrow, I will eat cornbread for breakfast.
Yesterday, I changed the strap on my father’s Seiko watch.
Tomorrow, I will write a new story about love.
Yesterday, I was walking up the hill in Coogee Beach, listening to the gulls squawking about their anchovies.
Tomorrow, I will play the bamboo flute, the one my brother ordered to be made for me.
Yesterday, my niece was crying. Not really. She was just saying that sometimes she cried in the dark alone, and I dried her tears. She said she wished to have a father like me.
Tomorrow, I will cook a new dish, perhaps with cream of mushroom and cauliflower.
Yesterday, I burned incense for Mom and Dad, and Phuong too.
Tomorrow, I will go fishing again with Dan. Got my fishing license for the year. It costs more than last year because Fish and Game decided the fish are bigger.
Yesterday, I took BART for the first time in years. It was nice to be on a train, let someone drive for me and I could look out the window.
Tomorrow, the birds will come back. I saw the first Robin of the year this morning. Spring is coming again. I can feel it. I hear it. The cycle will begin again.
Yesterday, today, tomorrow. Like a wheel, it turns.