Why Do We Keep Waiting?

Today, remember this.

We often spend an enormous amount of our time waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Sometimes for good reason, yes, but often for flimsy reasons that fold as soon as they’re examined.

When I was eighteen, I won a bottle of Glenmorangie whisky in a raffle.

It wasn't a rare bottle, nor was it particularly expensive. It was simply the first bottle of whisky I'd ever owned, and that alone made it feel special.

So I decided to save it.

Not for an ordinary evening. For the right occasion.

Maybe my first 'real' job. A milestone birthday. Some achievement worthy of opening a bottle that, in truth, wasn't especially remarkable.

But...the years drifted by.

Whenever a special occasion announced itself, I noticed the bottle gathering dust on the shelf, and I'd tell myself, Not yet.

Then life carried me much farther than I expected. I moved from Scotland to the United States. The unopened bottle came with me, crossing the Atlantic, still unopened, carefully packed in a suitcase.

Eventually, more than a decade later, I decided the moment had finally arrived.

I was hosting a Burns Night supper—a celebration of Scotland's national poet, Robert Burns. Friends had gathered. There would be haggis, poetry, and, naturally, whisky.

I reached for the bottle I'd been saving all those years.

I peeled away the seal.

Twisted the cork.

And it crumbled.

Half of it stayed in my hand. The other half floated in the whisky I'd been trying so carefully to preserve.

Somewhere along the way, the cork had dried out. Air had slowly seeped in. The whisky had oxidized. It wasn't drinkable anymore.

There's a kind of irony that only becomes obvious in hindsight. The thing I'd spent years trying to keep special had been spoiled precisely because I'd waited so long to enjoy it.

I've thought about that bottle far more often than I've thought about the whisky itself. Because I think I have a habit of doing the same thing in other parts of life.

I wait until I feel more confident before starting something new. I wait until the house is tidier before inviting people over. I wait until Monday to begin the habit I already know I should begin today.

I wait until I have more experience. More certainty. More time.

Sometimes that's wise. Preparation has its place. Not every impulse deserves immediate action. But I do wonder how often waiting secretly changes the thing we're waiting for.

Expectations grow. Pressure builds. The imagined future becomes so polished that reality struggles to compete with it.

Perhaps the perfect occasion isn't something waiting patiently for us somewhere down the road. Perhaps it's something we create the moment we decide that today is enough.