The last time I was in a period of transition as intense as the one I'm in right now was when I got out of college. In fact, right now feels a lot like that. As in: all the patterns and rhythms that govern my life (besides the natural ones, of course) are ending.
Most of our lives, we have a pretty good sense of what things will look like a month or two hence. We live in cycles, after all. Yesterday: the sun rose, the sun set. Today: the sun rises, the sun sets. Tomorrow: the sun will rise, the sun will set. In between: our lives. Cycles.
But right now I don't know what to expect.
Like when college ended, the space of transition itself is clear enough. I will do this for a few weeks. I will move here. And then … unknown. True, the future is never more than a dream, but most of the time we can trust that there will be some resemblance between that dream and what occurs when the future becomes the present.
This is not where I find myself now. Orthographically I might write it thus: "Two months from now I will be ???"
There are words that I can fill in that blank with, and know they are correct. "Two months from now I will be writing." Yes. That is true.
And this: "Two months from now I will be breathing." And this: "Two months from now, I will be alive."1
1 Well, you know, unless I'm not. Shit does happen. But what am I supposed to say? "Actuarial data assigns a high probability that two months from now, I will still be alive." Factually accurate, but rhetorically a handful of overcooked spaghetti. Life is much too short to be that mirthlessly literal, don't you think?