Will not come again.

I wake up, the morning looming ahead. The evening that feels days from now.

Wondering, how will I make it through?

Wondering, how will FoH be? What will his day consist of?

So often I find myself on autopilot. Just trying to make it. Or just trying to wake up.

I get sucked into the illusion. That today is just your typical every other day kind of day.

Ordinary in its insignificance.

Except that it’s not. I’ve decided the magic stuff actually resides in this ordinary.

That these are the moments, the day in and the day out, when we think no one is watching or listening — that we tell the World and Each Other Who We Really Are by simply being.

What we do matters. You matter.