Until Then

There is a question which governs our lives, dictating our movement and plotting out everything we as though we exist merely to be portrayed on graph paper: What next? After a while, it will always pop up. My best friend J asked it when I told her I had to switch schools. (She used the time to explore old, untouched relationships for a while.) My aunt used to it plan a new life when new power lines under her home made it impossible for her to sleep. (She moved to the Caribbean.) I whimpered it when my first good friendship slipped out the door and onto a plane bound for California. (We visit each summer.) No matter where in our lives we are at any given moment, there is a next moment, right up until the very last one, at which point we must focus on the present before we get too teary-eyed.

There's no story to tell today. I just wanted to tell you all that I am done dwelling in the past. What next? The future. As I move forward, I finally figured out how to answer that question correctly every time. As black as the past might loom, the future will always come next.