I will make time.
Even as a child, I was a planner. Every hour was optimized, elaborate schedules carefully crafted. Looking over my shoulder, my mother would gently remind me:
"There are only twenty-four hours in a day."
As I grew older, I found that twenty-four hours often just wasn't enough. Those earmarked "sleep" were the easiest to redistribute, and any once allocated to introspection had long been dismissed as an indulgence. It never occurred to me, during this Tetris game of time allocation, that I could change time itself.
For the past twenty months, I put optimization aside and I made time.
I made time for unexpected conversations. For writing at sunrise.
I learned that every minute spent on reflection made the minutes that followed more valuable. Each unit of time was somehow amplified, its weight heavier with the intention it now carried.
My time is the only irreplaceable resource I have to offer this world. And now, that time flows with purpose, its direction informed by more than inertia and whim.
There are still only twenty-four hours in a day, but I've discovered something powerful.
I can make time. I will make time.
I will make this life more than the sum of my days.