Winter, Longing for Summer

Today wasn't the best. I spent what felt like the whole day hunting for change that never quite showed itself — or maybe it did, small enough to pass by unnoticed. By the time the day ended, it felt disappointing, a feeling I don't particularly want to make room for.

I know the improvement is there. I can feel its shape even when I can't see it. Looking back at where I started against where I stand now, nothing about the distance is in doubt. It's only that the further I go, the slower the movement seems to become. Some days it feels like living inside winter, aching for a summer that refuses to hurry.

And that, I think, is exactly the trouble. Today I went searching the future for something I wanted, and in doing so I missed whatever gift the present had quietly laid out in front of me.

I don't know if this pattern ever fully resolves. I'm not even certain it should. Dreams of what's ahead are the thing that gets a man out of bed, that keeps him walking toward whatever still sits just past the horizon. They feel good — full of the maybe, the almost, the reach toward something not quite within grasp. I love that feeling. But I'm still learning not to let it cloud the moment actually unfolding beneath my feet.

There's work still ahead. There always will be. But right here, right now, life is rich.