Years ago, I remember sitting outside a small noodle shop, looking at my watch and feeling tense. My friend had texted, “I’m kind of in a rush, can we make it quick?” I was already halfway through my bowl, so I nodded when she came in, and we ate in hurried silence. Afterward, she suggested, “Let’s touch base tomorrow,” before running off. I realized then how much our lives were starting to revolve around busy schedules and short meetings, always trying to fit in just one more thing.
Now, my days often feel the same. When someone asks, “Let’s grab a bite,” my first thought is to check my calendar and wonder, Can we push it to next week? Sometimes I agree, sometimes I say, “I’ll take a rain check,” or even, “I’ll pass on that one.” But I try to remember those quick lunches and rushed goodbyes. Maybe it’s better, sometimes, to just say, “Whatever works for you. Let’s play it by ear.”
Lately, I notice the pleasure of not planning every detail, of letting things unfold. I meet friends for lunch without worrying about time. Sometimes we eat slowly, sometimes fast, but we don’t rush to finish. Maybe all these little choices add up—whether to accept, delay, or decline, we are making space for what matters, one meal at a time.
