# Whispers of Vapor

## Breath on the Window

On a cold morning like this one, December 13, 2025, I watch my breath fog the kitchen window. It blooms into a soft cloud, a fleeting shape I can trace with a finger—a heart, a tree, my name. Seconds later, it fades into clarity. Vapor arrives unannounced, lingers just long enough to be noticed, then slips away without a trace. No fanfare, no struggle. Just presence, then peace.

## The Gentle Reminder

This simple act mirrors our days. Joy in a shared laugh with a friend. The warmth of sunlight on your face during a quiet walk. A kind word that lands softly before the moment shifts. Vapor doesn't demand we hold it forever; it invites us to see it fully while it's here. In a world that pulls us toward permanence—plans, possessions, worries—vapor whispers: everything changes. Clinging only clouds the view.

What if we lived like that breath?
- Noticing the ordinary glow of a candle's flame.
- Savoring the steam rising from a cup of tea.
- Releasing grudges as easily as mist dissolves.

## Shaping the Everyday

Vapor teaches lightness. It rises from water warmed by life, transforms, then returns to the air we all share. Our own moments do the same: they form from small warmths, touch us briefly, nourish what's next. Next time you see your breath on a chill day, pause. Let it remind you to meet each instant with open hands.

*In the end, vapor shows us how to be: here now, gone gracefully.*