What's Next?

You know how in primary school story times are a pretty regular occurrence?

a group of sticky young’uns sitting on an entourage of colorful spongy mats, a bit bumpy because kids + mats = holes from picking on it; a free stress reliever though!

Josh jumps at the opportunity to share the Epic of Mr. Bunnytoes with his fellow cubby mates.

‘A 6-foot jacked yellow Easter bunny ruled the plateau while a big fat lame turtle got in…erm…a race because of a…cookie…hm…what next…’

‘OH! The epic bunny beat the turtle by a long shot and stole his millions and mega houses; it was crazy.’

This was Josh’s first time improvising.

I don’t think he was sure about what was next, but whatever, Josh.

warm rays on my toasted skin, grazing cows on the riverside, and cranes circling them as I share a glance with my grandma.

My relationship with my grandmother is largely positive but lackluster regarding level of activity and how much she shares with me, although not sensitive information like an inheritance (I wish! /j).

She upholds largely reclusive values and tends to keep anecdotes to herself,

Except for today!

On the 17th of January, post yoga rehab, which wasn’t as satisfactory as usual due to the lack of a crucial instrument: her trusty dumbbells!

This fault in the equation led to a bend in the space-time continuum, temporarily altering my grandmother’s willingness to share.

In the year of the lord, 1965, my grandmother, a flourishing teenager more like myself but cooler and more formidable, made it known that she was interested in continuing her education following high school to indulge in a little higher education: undergrad!

Past the deadline for most applications and with a dire need for financial stability, she decided to partake in night college while working during the day.

Laborious? Yes.

Lucrative? Not really.

Her enrollment heavily relied on availability; for instance, she opted for economics and politics simply due to the fact that it’s all the university offered for the night classes, and well, it worked out for her.

Post graduation she wasn’t sure what life had set in stone for her, but well, her parents did!

Church bells lead to an empty void in her heart; another degree it is.

Feeling no clear direction and not knowing what was next, she decided to just go on to study a master’s in ancient Indian history.

Did she really need to? Probably not.

Her retelling of her career and each step up on the ladder increasingly cracking the glass ceiling ended with her being an esteemed principal at a Catholic school for a couple of years.

Each step wasn’t really thought through or planned beforehand yet climaxed remarkably.

Was she wrong for not knowing what was next following each step?

Society emphasizes the need for rigid planning and self-awareness as soon as you brush the occupational sphere of life.

Interviews probe to know if I, a measly mortal, know what I see myself doing in 5 years.

I understand it builds an assessment of one’s ambition, but is it really critical to their character?

As children we’re taught to improvise. I’m not saying the peak of human behavior should be constant spontaneity; that would disregulate my life. Wanting structure isn’t a sin or anything, but rigid planning isn’t the answer either.

What is life if not decision after decision that may not always be rational?

I personally think values subjected to children are not consistent with adult life; however, they should be.

If Josh’s ability to fill in the blank for ‘what’s next’ without a rationale is encouraged, why is it so scandalous to wish to swim with the stream?

I ache to ask myself, ‘What’s next?’ after each move; eternal planning isn’t really for me.

The anticipation feeds my soul—kinda like tomato soup.

I hope my career ends up like yours, Granny.

Written by Dirth (Andrea Gonsalves)

I hope you had fun reading :)