I hope this will be a story I tell
As I sit here tucked back in a corner of Flat Lander's, with my hoodie pulled over my head to intentionally eliminate the distraction of my peripherals, I'm thinking about whether what I'm swinging at will finally connect.
I've ditched my wife so many times to take myself out to dinner or for drinks. It's never been to just indulge. Every time, I've sat privately with my fingers on this keyboard or pen in a notebook drafting what I hope is progress.
I feel like I'm about to hit my stride. Every decision I've made over the last year plus has been with intention. What I'm working on right now could change my life. It could be one of the many things I've set my sight on that finally hits my target's bullseye.
If this vague attempt at trying to come to terms with the potential payoff for the time and effort I've devoted to an otherwise long-shot actually hits, I'm going to tell the story about all these quiet little nights I've worked to make something big happen.
If I succeed, things are going to change. If I strike out again, it's not for lack of swinging. Either way, it's progress.