Traffic hums by, people with places to be buzzing in and out of their own small urgencies.
And here — in this parking lot, waiting for my girl while she does what she loves — this is where I’ve learned a lot about myself.
This parking lot used to feel like a waiting room.
Now it feels more like a thinking room.
I’ve done some of my best thinking sitting right here. I’ve learned more about myself in this in-between space than I ever expected to.
I’ve learned that love grows with patience and shrinks with pressure.
I’ve learned that the best love stories aren’t “by the book,” but written by the heart.
As I walked through the bookstore today, I saw shelves of stories — self-help guides, planners, history books, romances. Each one holding something new, something different, something meaningful.
And as I wandered those aisles, I started thinking about how every one of those books felt like the people in this parking lot.
Each car holds a story.
Each person is living a chapter no one else fully sees.
Some stories look polished on the outside.
Some look messy.
Some are in the middle of a hard chapter.
Some are just turning the page.
And so am I.
I used to think waiting meant I was missing out.
Now I think it just means I’m still becoming.
So don’t rush through the chapters of your life. Trust that the next page may bring wonder, excitement, and happiness. And if it doesn’t unfold the way you hoped, keep turning the pages anyway.
Because the story isn’t over just because one chapter feels uncertain.
