August 2, 2026 – 7:21 a.m.
It is a quiet morning.
It is a solemn morning.
One or two birds sing.
An aircraft flies by with a light hum.
The sky isn’t pure white today.
A little blue is slowly seeping through.
Again…
I’m underneath the canopy.
A mixed flower bouquet sits in front of me.
I love the hum of early mornings.
I’ve always heard from my dad to be…
“Realistic.”
In his terms…
it means lowering your expectations.
Because if they become too big…
the disappointment can fall on you like a collapsing wall.
For a long time…
I lived in conflict with that idea.
Everything I’ve ever wanted to do in life…
has been hard.
At the first sign of difficulty…
I’d pull back.
Sometimes…
I’d quit.
I called it procrastination.
Maybe…
it was fear wearing a different name.
If the future version of me could send one sentence back…
how wonderful would that be.
I hope it would simply say…
“I’m so glad you stopped being realistic.”
Well…
that’s all I’ve got.
I’m going to brew some coffee.
☕ Enjoy your cup of coffee
Reader Question
What dream have you called unrealistic… even though some part of you still wants to pursue it?
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☕ Enjoy your cup of coffee.
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