Here we are at today.
Funny how far away it once seemed.
At eighteen, today was a place somewhere beyond all the plans.
A distant porch light barely visible down a long road.
At twenty-five, we were still sure we'd know something when we got here.
At thirty, we had lists. Goals. Things to save for. Things to become.
We had friends we couldn't imagine losing touch with.
Conversations that felt important.
Deadlines that felt permanent.
Problems that seemed worth losing sleep over.
Then somehow, today arrived.
Not all at once. Not with fanfare.
It drifted in quietly.
One Christmas at a time. One birthday at a time. One goodbye at a time.
And all those years between got folded away somewhere.
The things we thought mattered most, mostly didn't.
The arguments. The worries. The race to get somewhere.
We can't even remember what some of it was about.
What we do remember are the faces.
A front porch. A cup of coffee.
The sound of somebody laughing in another room.
A dog waiting at the door.
Sunlight crossing a field.
The ordinary things that never announced themselves as important.
These days urgency seems attached to everything.
Every task.
Every plan.
Every conversation.
Every unfinished thing standing in the corner waiting to be dealt with.
Maybe that's what time does.
It keeps tapping you on the shoulder.
Reminding you there are fewer tomorrows than there used to be.
So even simple things arrive carrying a little more weight.
A little more meaning.
A little more now-or-never.
And some mornings I catch myself wondering,
Why bother?
Why start another project?
Why make new plans?
Why paint another painting when the world already has enough pictures?
Then the light hits a field just right.
Or somebody calls or texts.
Or a grand old tree stands exactly where it's always stood.
And I remember.
The point was never getting here.
The point was noticing.
Noticing the road. The weather. The people walking beside us for however long they're beside us.
Today isn't what we imagined.
It's smaller than that.
And somehow bigger.
A little worn around the edges. A little harder earned.
But it's here.
After all those years of looking ahead, of waiting for life to begin,
here we are.
At today.
And for all its questions, for all its hurry, for all the things that slipped away,
it's still enough to stand in this patch of sunlight, look out across the field,
and be glad we made it this far.
wcd
