Schoolbus Tuesdays

"Let's both quit our jobs," he said, "right now,
and go to the Islands.
We'll work on my friend's boat and have nothing
but good times."

"What about After?" I said.

"What if there is no After?" he said.
"Maybe we'll never come back.
I could get a job."

"There's always After," I said.

And later I wondered if he disliked my practicality,
and if I did,
and I wished I could want it bad enough to go.
But the problem is, I really believe
in After.

I wonder.
Is life what you return to after the side roads
that take you away from it,
or is life the side roads themselves,
the things that catch your heart enough
to pull it away from the duty that doesn't,
that holds you back,
in one place?