I landed at Washington Dulles today after a smooth flight. Thanks to my United Gold status, I’d been able to choose a seat with extra legroom when I booked—a benefit I’ve come to appreciate. Today, nobody was sitting beside me, either. Afterward, I enjoyed lunch in the lounge before heading over to pick up my rental car.
Nothing extraordinary happened, but several little things made the day pleasant.
I was the only passenger on the rental car shuttle. The driver joked about my private ride, and I thanked him. My rental had a little more room than the one I’d driven before, controls I liked better, and a sunroof. At sixty-eight degrees, it was warm enough to open it and enjoy the afternoon.
I had also apologized to my mom, and she told me she forgave me. I was grateful we had spoken. Those words meant something to me.
Somewhere along the way, I realized something else about myself. I miss having a place to look forward to visiting.
Sometimes meeting someone gives you that. Suddenly, there’s another town you want to see, another road you want to travel, a reason to make plans. You begin imagining what a weekend might look like.
When that possibility fades, you miss the anticipation, too.
I enjoy having something on the calendar that makes me glad it’s coming. It doesn’t have to be an elaborate vacation. A drive, a visit, or a few hours somewhere unfamiliar can be enough.
The leaves are beginning to change here, and there are still places I want to explore. People have told me about waterfalls I should visit. There are roads I haven’t traveled and places where I could spend an afternoon walking and looking around.
I tend to follow familiar roads. Once I learn where things are and find places I like, it’s easy to settle into a routine. There’s comfort in knowing my way around. But I also want time to turn down a different road occasionally—to stop, take a picture, and see what’s there.
Today, I considered visiting the air museum near the airport. Instead, I decided to head toward the hotel, pick up a few essentials, and get settled.
I didn’t need to fit one more thing into the afternoon.
A pastor I knew used to talk about leaving margin in our lives. That word came back to me today.
Margin.
Some space in the schedule to breathe, rest, or enjoy something without having to hurry through it.
I can fill my days pretty easily. Work takes its share. Travel takes time. Then there are errands, responsibilities, and people who need a hand. Before long, the time I thought I had available is already spoken for.
Even today, I had a work call that lasted fifteen or twenty minutes. It was a good conversation, with progress on an issue that had needed an answer for some time. I enjoyed knowing that something was moving forward and that I had helped get it there.
There’s satisfaction in that. I like figuring out what’s missing, bringing the right people together, and helping a problem reach a resolution.
But a useful conversation doesn’t have to become an entire afternoon of work. I can appreciate the progress and still give myself time to settle in.
When I get home again, I may help my son move some larger things—lend a hand with a couch or help load his truck. I’m happy to help. I also want to leave room in that visit to rest and enjoy being home.
I’m learning to consider that before I commit all my time.
There’s still uncertainty about how long work will keep me here. In the meantime, there are places within reach that I’d like to enjoy.
A weekend drive as the leaves change. An afternoon at a waterfall. A few hours with no particular deadline.
I don’t have those plans worked out yet. But I can leave space for them. And I can choose something to look forward to, even while other parts of life remain uncertain.
Sunlight shining through a leafy tree beside a paved walking trail under a clear blue sky
I’m grateful to God for the ordinary gifts in this day: a smooth flight, my mom’s forgiveness, a friendly driver, lunch, and fresh air through an open sunroof.
I still want somewhere to look forward to going. I want to leave enough margin to go there, too.
But today, driving toward the hotel with the sunroof open, I was enjoying where I was.
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