Through the weak light of the early winter morning, I could see the other one was here, too, sitting at my feet, looking forlornly into the distance. Feeling my gaze, he slowly turned to look at me. I kicked him hard from under the covers, making him abruptly stand up with a look of hurt in his eyes.

“What do you guys want?” I said groggily.

These two will inevitably show up at some moment in my day, but they always catch me in the morning, taking advantage of a mind still peering out through the fog of sleep and without the hit of a strong coffee coursing through my veins.

The anxious one, who’s constantly riding the upward spiral of the future, like a leaf in a tornado. Just spin- spin- spinning, trying to hold on to anything he can get his hands on. That would be the Could dude.

And the sad one, who’s constantly trudging through that boggy mire of shame and old regrets — always thinking that the past is owed some kind of unpaid debt that he can never quite reconcile. I call him the Would guy.

Why do these two uninvited guests keep showing up in my life? Well, I guess because they’re both me, after all. The two of them, on the opposite sides of the spectrum, stretching the mushy pink blob in my head like an elastic band — otherwise known as my brain — back and forth in their constant game of tug of war.

And where does that leave me? Somewhere in between the both of them, I suppose. Forever ping-ponging between swampy regret and stormy anxiety.

“Oh good, you’re finally up,” Could said nervously. “You have a lot to get done today.”

Would gave out a big sigh from the corner of the room.
“You would have been up long ago if you hadn’t gone to bed so late,” he said, shaking his head. “The day is already off to a bad start.”

Rolling my eyes, I threw off the duvet and got up. Heading to the bathroom, I stormed past Would, hitting him on the shoulder as I passed him.

“Get off the cross. We need the wood,” I muttered to him under my breath. “No pun intended.”

“You have to get a move on! You could be missing out!” Could called out as I made my way down the hallway.

I shut the bathroom door behind me, leaned against it, and squeezed my eyes closed.

“Jesus, not today,” I thought.

I walked over to the sink and splashed some water on my face. I was suddenly startled by a noise coming from the shower. The curtain drew back with a swoosh, and there he was again.

“How the hell did you–”

“You know, you ought to put a shower mat down in here,” Could said. “You could easily break your neck.”

“Do you mind? I’m not even awake yet.”

Then, a tiny voice called from the other side of the bathroom door.

“What a shame. You would be at the gym by now if you hadn’t done that doom-scroll on Instagram last night.”

Angrily, I got up and hurled the door open. Would just stood there, looking sheepish and scared.

Would cowered in fear, and his eyes welled up with tears. Could jumped out of the shower and stood behind me, his eyes manic and wide, and pressed his mouth against my ear.

“He’s right, you know,” he whispered. “But be careful. You could have a heart attack on that treadmill. You’re no spring chicken, after all.”

I twitched my shoulder to get him off of me and stormed off to the kitchen, taking a few breaths to try and calm down.

“I’m just going to get some coffee into me, and then everything will be fine,” I muttered to myself.

I opened a cupboard door and fumbled around, looking for the coffee grounds. A hand suddenly erupted out of one of the shelves, holding the bag of coffee. Should pushed his head out from between some packages of rice and pasta.

“You could drink tea instead, you know. Better for your nerves,” Could said in a very self-righteous tone.

“That coming from you? Please, you’re wound up tighter than a drum.”

I slammed the cupboard door shut and heard a muffled “Owww” coming from inside.

I opened the fridge and was looking around for the carton of milk, when Would poked his head out of the vegetable crisper.

“Look at all this wasted food. If you had just cooked last night, you would have had lunch all ready for today. Now everything is dying in here.”

I heard a crrrunch from inside as I slammed the fridge door shut.

I loaded the coffee into the cappuccino maker and placed a mug under the receptacle. As it groaned to life, I looked out into the living room.

Sure enough, Would and Could had somehow made it to the couch, staring at me intently. Would just sat there, looking as wilted as the wet lettuce hanging off of his clothes. Could was next to him, wide-eyed and bouncing up and down, with rogue pieces of rice and pasta cascading down from his head.

“Now, don’t forget to take a moment to think about everything that went wrong yesterday,” Would said. “You’ve got to take a lonnng, hard look.”

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!” Could stuttered. “You’ve got to get going. You could miss your deadline!”

On and on they went, in a flurry of woulds and coulds that made my head spin. And then, out of nowhere, I heard another voice coming down the hallway.

“I have this now, boys. I’ll take it from here.”

I knew that voice. He slowly appeared from the dark hall and walked into the living room. Would and Could both fell silent. Well, I guess a day wouldn’t be complete without him showing up, too. The final player in this trifecta of tribulation. It’s, of course, the Should man.

Dressed in a long, black cloak, he looked around the living room.

“Where shall we begin?” he said dryly as he sauntered over to Would and Could.

“Poor, pathetic Would. Do you really think he wants to spend half his day navel-gazing into the past? Are you going to accompany him with some sombre music?”

Should held up his index and middle finger and rubbed them together, pretending to play a mini-violin while singing repeatedly: “An-aaa-ly-sis to par-aaa-ly-sis…”

“What a sad, sad melody,” he said sarcastically.

“And Could….just what are we going to do with you, hmm? Always so worried about what the future holds. Catastrophizing to no end. God, it’s exhausting just looking at you.”

Should turned suddenly to face me. He leaned forward and cupped my chin in one of his hands.

“No, no, my dear. All you have to do is think of what you should do, am I right, boys? Always keep in mind what is expected of you.”

Would and Could nodded nervously.

He turned and walked over to the bookshelf. Slowly and methodically, he ran a finger across one of the shelves. A grey smear of dust lay on his index finger. He looked at it and turned up his nose.

“You know, you should really pass a cloth over these shelves once in a blue moon. You want to be a good boy, don’t you?”

Out of the three of them, Should was the one that seemed to tower over everything else. As long as he was satisfied, Would and Could would eventually fall in line, wouldn’t they?

But today, I noticed something different about him. His tone was smug and condescending, slowly turning that knife of guilt — with a blade poisoned with obligation and responsibility — but disguising it as something encouraging.

Now I know why he was dressed that way. The judge had arrived. And then, the onslaught of woulds, shoulds and coulds started up again.

“How would you know what you should have done without us?”

“You could be disappointing someone. You should get your act together.”

“You should really get a grip. You would be so much further now if you just listened to us.”

And then I realized that the three of them weren’t all that different. Each one held a part of the other, too. Tag-teaming off each other in a swirl of past, present and future, dancing their crazy dance in my living room. Not only was the judge here, but the jury and executioner were here, too.

Get me out of this kangaroo court.

“Enough!!” I screamed.

The three of them stopped and just stared at me in disbelief.

“I’m…good,” I finally said.

“You know, you shouldn’t speak up like that. Who’s going to remind you of your manners?” Should scolded.

“Where, oh where, would you be without me remembering your mistakes?” Would agonized.

“Yeah, who knows what catastrophes could happen without me by your side?” Could fretted.

It was then that something started to stir inside of me. At first, it was a chuckle. Then it grew and grew and suddenly erupted like a volcano, and soon, I was laughing so hard that my belly shook.

I just laughed at it all.

The three of them continued to stare, but this time, there was a nervousness behind their eyes. And then, with one sudden gesture, I raised my middle finger to them all, and they all gasped in unison.

And then those three glorious words slowly came out of my mouth:

“Woulda–”

“Shoulda–”

“Coulda–”

And with each word, the three of them vanished in a puff of black smoke, one after the other.

In the silence, I sat on the couch and looked out the window. The winter clouds broke for a moment, and the morning light streamed in. The fables of my past had faded, the fantasies of my future had vanished, and the myths hanging over the present had cleared.

A smile came across my face as I took my first sip out of the mug I held in my hands, and I realized then that the only thing that was here with me was Now.

“Everything’s always better after a strong cup of coffee,” I thought as this brand-new day unfolded before me, one sweet moment at a time.