The Next Thing

While you were gone, things changed. You walked into what you thought was familiar to find the whole place re-done, turned upside out, the furniture moved, your paintings taken down and replaced with posters of video games. Where people used to face you you now see backs turned. You get cut off and people giggle when you talk. Nobody cares any more what you think, what you want, what you believe to be true. It's a new world they say. Buck up. There's the door if you don't like it. You are supposed to stare at your laptop in meetings and laugh at inside jokes that you don't think are funny, don't see why others think they are funny. The road ended and you are still moving forward, off the pavement now, heading off into the desert. You missed a turn somewhere and have to go back, or find your way into what comes next. You don't know what that is exactly, so you just throttle back, take stock, and remember that what you do is breathe. You breathe in and out. It is compassion you inhale. You remember that. It's the next thing, the way you will go.