piecemeal.

by Liz on 11.14

“It must be nice to know who you’re staying with forever and what you’re doing with your life,” a friend sighed.

I almost laughed out loud.

For most of my life, it seemed like there was a clear progression. I think it’s a result of the endless schooling. You go to school, you graduate, you go to college, maybe you get your master’s, you graduate, you find a good job… I lived for a little while on a sort of lovely autopilot.

Now, there’s no clear progression. I feel like now, more than ever, I don’t know what next. We live from day to day- hoping that tomorrow, someone will call with a job offer. Maybe tomorrow we’ll know “what next.”

For a few weeks, we’ve wrapped ourselves in the little bubble of our tiny family. We stay huddled in our apartment- partially out of necessity (we don’t have money or gas, and Little Josh has had a sniffly coughing thing), but partially out of hoping to avoid the harsh world that keeps knocking us back. Mounds of comfort food and endless Netflix cushion us. It’s like a distorted version of our dream life- as though viewed in a splintered mirror. I don’t need to kiss Josh goodbye in the morning any more- but I also don’t know when I’ll be able to buy groceries next.

The Plans- they fall by the wayside. Children, travel, moving are no longer possible on the original timeframe. The Plans are scratched out again- but this time, not rewritten. It’s hard to know what to plan for next month when you’re not quite sure about tomorrow.

My friend was right on the one part- there is a constant. Josh. And now, even, Little Josh. We may be unsure of where we’re going and how we’re getting there, but there’s an odd comfort in knowing that we’re lost together. It almost seems as if the rest doesn’t matter.

 

 

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