December 5

A sentence that begins with “once” is more useful than it sounds. Once this job is finished, once there’s more time, once things have calmed down. It doesn’t just push something hoped-for further off. It also shields the present from judgement. As long as the real thing still lies ahead, this day doesn’t have to be measured by whether it is good. It counts as preparation.

Leave the sentence out, and fulfilment doesn’t arrive at once; what comes is more a certain exposure. A sluggish afternoon is then no longer a detour, but a sluggish afternoon of your life. In return, the conversation in the evening belongs wholly to you, instead of being merely a pause between more important things.

That doesn’t mean you will live without wishes, and you don’t have to. There are things you really do still want to achieve. The difference lies elsewhere: a wish can pull you forward, or it can allow you not to take today seriously yet. From the outside the two look the same.

You seldom tell which one you have right now by what you wish for.