It’s late morning and I’m sitting on the balcony of our hotel, the ocean stretched out in front of me like it has nowhere else to be. The light is sharp. The air is already thick. Everything feels startlingly clear. Clarity is still new to me. I notice it the way you notice a muscle you didn’t know you had — with relief, and a little suspicion. We’re going to the Hemingway Museum today. Part of it feels like obligation, a quiet nod to the English major I once was. The part of

A reflection on how quickly we rush to certainty—and what possibilities we might be missing in the middle.