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Lying in bed listening to faraway cars and the ticking of my alarm clock takes me back to a time when those sounds were drowned by crashing waves, further away than both but louder even so. How’s that for critical distance? I was waiting then, for things to be different, for everything to settle down and look up and get better until all was right with my world.

I don’t remember calling off that wait. But it must have ended, or at least diminished in importance to the point at which it might as well have. In all my life I’ve never wanted to endure, to become rigid and unyielding, and I think my efforts to resist such a fate have been successful, by and large.

The questions that I ask myself begin to make me tired and antsy so I come up with new ones. I am having a hard time getting to those little things which make such a difference when they happen every day. I am finding it easier to tackle the bigger things, theoretically that is. If my dreamed-of year-from-now life were upon me I’d go about it with great gusto. Showing up for the next 365 days with my best foot forward shouldn’t get the opposite amount of effort.