I used to hate it when someone said, “One day you’ll look back on this and smile.” Not because I didn’t believe it, but because I’m not a patient person. I want the perspective only time can provide, but I want it now.

I’ve just come in from mowing my backyard and, despite the humidity and the hassle, find myself smiling at how simple this task has become. Six years ago, I grew tired just thinking about pushing that machine around my yard, let alone troubleshooting all its quirks and nagging my boys to help me divide and conquer our overgrown property. Now, I come home from work and find the front yard mowed, no nagging needed. I’ve replaced, assembled, and maintained our mower for the last four mowing seasons, and sometimes even look forward to the chore, if the weather is right. The contraption that used to represent someone missing from my life is now just a tool I employ, like any other in my ever-growing collection of resources.

What a difference 2,000-ish days make; 50,000 or so little hours.