It happened about a week ago. Interestingly, while I was writing a short story… perhaps for a collection, perhaps for this space, perhaps simply to sit on my hard drive.

And it was subtle. Incredibly subtle.

As subtle as the curves of the tall beauty that just walked by. And the way her jeans hug them.

What a beautiful distraction! And welcome!

Anyway, I was writing a short story about someone wrongfully persecuted, and I was almost finished, when the idea fell apart.

An idea what was so clear an hour before… dissolved.

How to end it? How long did it take for his perceived crime to be discovered? And how long after the alleged crime was he picked up?

These nuggets of story vanished. Like morning fog in the rising sun.

What’s next?

I have sat down to write a couple of times. Resulting in nothing worth keeping—save, potentially, this piece. (That last post is certainly... shyt.)

And possibly an unsent letter to Amy. But that is best not mentioning.

Why is this happening?

Is it stress? I am noticing I have to concentrate lately to melt the tension away from my facial muscles. And that any random thought or distraction brings it right back. And when I’m with certain people, my hands are clenched.

I rarely worry about money, so when conditions arise that stir these worries, it does become harder to relax.

So, potentially it is stress.

Is it the unknown? I feel ready to leap. Yet I am uncertain where. I’m welcome in Kansas City. And Tulsa. And Jackson Hole.

And Europe is again within reach.

And of course, as the impulse to leap arises, I am meeting more pretty girls. They truly are… everywhere! And they emit an incredible light when you gaze upon their beauty.

There truly is nothing quite like making a pretty girl smile.

So, is it the beauty orbiting me? A distraction? Albeit, a welcome one.

Perhaps.

Is it… hesitation?

This summer, it has become painfully apparent that hesitation is my greatest sin.

I drag out anything unpleasant. The stoics are unamused.

A perfect job reaches out to me, and I nearly lose it dragging out the paperwork. The perfect rental becomes available, and I nearly lose it by failing to reach out to her. The perfect pair of shoes appear at the store, and I lose them by telling myself, “Next time.”

And I’ll forever regret not continuing the conversation with the beauty at the grocery store who was seeking a Butterfinger as a post-workout indulgence.

There it is. Regret. My constant companion. Look back! This space is filled with nearly twenty years of regret! Will I ever learn?

Perhaps not. Which is why this book lives within me… and needs to be released.

Let others learn from my hesitation. My regret. My failures. (Can I even call them failures? Many people roll failure into a teachable moment… I hesitate over and over and over again.)

If only, I could simply stop it. Stop hesitating.

Maybe I can.