Sunday Short: Tomorrow Can Wait
- Faiz Faisal
- 6 days ago
- 4 min read
By thirty-eight, Daniel Mercer had quietly achieved everything he'd ever written down.
The dream house overlooking the sea.
The company he built from a laptop in a cramped apartment.
Financial freedom.
A wife who still reached for his hand during movies.
Two children who somehow made weekdays feel shorter than weekends.
A passport full of stamps.
Awards he never bothered dusting anymore.
Even the old watch he'd promised himself he'd buy "one day" sat comfortably around his wrist.
By every definition the world cared about—
Daniel had made it.
Which was precisely the problem.
One Tuesday morning, he found himself standing in front of his coffee machine for almost ten minutes.
Not because it was broken.
Because he couldn't think of what he was looking forward to.
The coffee tasted the same.
The sunrise looked the same.
His calendar was full.
His heart wasn't.
People assumed successful people woke up every day hungry for more.
Daniel wasn't hungry anymore.
He was... full.
And no one had ever taught him what came after that.
During dinner one evening, his daughter asked a question.
"Dad?"
"Yeah?"
"When you were little, what did you want to be?"
Daniel smiled.
"So many things."
"Like what?"
"An astronaut."
"A chef."
"A photographer."
"A businessman."
She giggled.
"You became one!"
"I did."
"What do you want to be now?"
Daniel opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
That question followed him everywhere.
During board meetings.
Morning runs.
Long showers.
Flights.
"What do you want to be now?"
Not...
What do you want to own?
Or earn?
Or achieve?
Just...
Who do you want to become?
The strange thing about accomplishing your dreams is that no one tells you dreams eventually stop introducing themselves.
There comes a morning when every childhood wish has already arrived.
And suddenly...
The horizon disappears.
Daniel tried fixing the feeling.
He bought a vintage car.
It was beautiful.
Two weeks later, it became another thing parked in the garage.
He climbed a mountain.
The view was breathtaking.
By Monday morning, the emails were back.
He even considered starting another company.
Until he realized he wasn't excited by the idea.
Only familiar with it.
One afternoon, he visited his old neighborhood.
The apartment where everything began still stood exactly as he remembered.
Smaller than memory.
Across the street sat the same tiny bakery where he'd spent countless evenings sketching business ideas on napkins because he couldn't afford a proper office.
The owner recognized him instantly.
"You made it."
Daniel laughed.
"I suppose I did."
The old man poured him a coffee.
"So."
Daniel smiled.
"So?"
"What's your next dream?"
Daniel stared into the cup.
"I don't know."
The old baker nodded as though he'd expected that answer all along.
"Good."
Daniel frowned.
"Good?"
"When I was your age, I thought life was a mountain."
Daniel looked up.
"You climb."
"You reach the top."
"And then..."
The baker smiled.
"I was disappointed to discover there wasn't another mountain."
"So what happened?"
"I realized..."
He looked out the window at people walking by.
"...life isn't a mountain."
"It's a garden."
Daniel stayed quiet.
"You don't conquer a garden."
"You tend to it."
"Every day."
"You water what matters."
"You pull weeds."
"You plant something new."
"And some mornings..."
He chuckled.
"You simply sit beneath the tree you planted years ago."
That evening, Daniel drove home differently.
For the first time in months...
He wasn't thinking about tomorrow.
The following weeks confused everyone around him.
He stepped down as CEO.
Not because he was burned out.
Because someone else was ready.
He began teaching entrepreneurship at a community center every Thursday.
He learned to bake bread with his daughter.
Started calling his mother every Sunday instead of waiting for birthdays.
Took photography classes from a teenager who was embarrassingly better than him.
Planted tomatoes.
Terrible tomatoes.
His wife insisted they were delicious.
They were lying to each other.
Lovingly.
Months later, someone interviewed Daniel for a magazine.
The final question was predictable.
"You've achieved what most people spend their entire lives chasing."
"What comes next?"
Daniel smiled.
Years earlier, that question would've terrified him.
Now...
It felt simple.
"Breakfast."
The interviewer blinked.
"Excuse me?"
"Tomorrow morning I'll make pancakes with my son."
"Then I'll probably kill another tomato plant."
"My wife and I are trying a new restaurant on Friday."
"I have a student pitching her first business next week."
"And there's a book on my bedside table I've been pretending to read for three months."
The interviewer laughed.
"I meant..."
"I know what you meant."
Daniel smiled.
"But I think we spend so much time asking what's next..."
"...that we forget to ask what's now."
That night, Daniel sat on his porch.
The ocean stretched endlessly before him.
Years ago, he would've looked at the horizon and wondered what was waiting beyond it.
Tonight...
He watched his children chase fireflies across the garden.
His wife laughed as one landed on her shoulder.
Someone inside burned the garlic bread.
Probably him.
He smiled.
Not because another dream had appeared.
But because he finally understood something.
The purpose of reaching your dreams...
Isn't to spend the rest of your life looking for bigger ones.
It's to finally have enough time to notice the life you've already built.
Tomorrow would always be there.
Tonight...
Was enough.
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