# Vapor

## Steam Rising

On a quiet morning, I watch steam curl from my coffee cup. It rises in delicate swirls, catching the light before dissolving into air. No trace left, just a faint warmth on my skin. Vapor appears without fanfare—breath on a cold window, mist over a lake at dawn. It's ordinary, yet it pulls me into the present, demanding I notice before it's gone.

## A Gentle Reminder

This fleeting dance holds a simple truth: nothing lasts forever. Vapor doesn't cling or demand permanence; it simply is, then shifts away. In our rush for solid plans and lasting marks, we forget this. Chasing forever tires us, while embracing the brief brings quiet peace. Like morning fog that clears to reveal the day, letting go makes room for what's next. It's not about loss, but about the grace in flow.

## Holding the Mist

We can't grasp vapor, but we can honor it—with words, a deep breath, a shared glance. In moments that evaporate, we find what's real: connection, now.

*On this May day in 2026, may your vapor linger just long enough.*