Anticipation & Enjoyment

I want to package the feeling of the first bite of the freshest, flakiest of croissants, enjoyed while speeding down the rails at 100 km/hour, the first morning coffee coursing through your veins and the second resting on your tray table, the world beyond the window presenting you with bright green fields and old fashioned cottages, aspirational refurbished castles and self-aware street art; the only noise your breath and the whirring of wheels upon rails, your only company your own thoughts and the little old man, dapperly dressed in wool and suspenders sitting quietly on the other end of the train car, lost in his own thoughts as you’re lost in yours, and you, comfortable in the knowledge that you boarded the right train, the ticket in your pocket, your body and your life headed toward a roughly outlined and opportunity-filled future.

I want to package this feeling, but I don’t think I’d ever open it up again. Moments like these are all the more valuable for their temporality. To live it too long would be to sift away the magic. To live it again would be to disassociate it with this moment in time.

But there will be others. Other croissants, other coffees, other trains and tickets and little old men. Valuable moments aren’t scarce, if you pay attention.

And I can look forward to the next one — all the next ones — after this moment is over. That anticipation is part of the enjoyment, part of the journey, part of what makes it all worthwhile.