1 - The Waves We Make

 

Chapter 1

 

Haden Snjougla stared at the small strip of paper in his palm, turning it over as if some hidden message might materialize on its blank surface.

 

"Got an empty fortune cookie today," he murmured to himself. "I'm not sure how I feel about that."

 

The morning light filtered through his kitchen window, casting geometric patterns across the countertop of his downtown apartment. Outside, Lake City was already humming with the mechanical rhythm of another workday. Haden's coffee had gone cold, his breakfast untouched.

 

The empty fortune seemed like a cosmic joke—or perhaps a message in itself. Was his fate coming to an end? Or was it completely open, free for the choosing? Either way, it unsettled him.

 

His phone buzzed. Jake, his producer at the radio station.

 

"Morning, sunshine. You planning to grace us with your presence today? You're on in forty-five."

 

Haden glanced at the clock. 7:15 AM.

 

"Yeah, I'm heading out now," he said, tucking the empty fortune into his wallet. "Traffic bad?"

 

"When isn't it? The usual backup on the bridge. Some fender-bender."

 

"I'll take the tunnel route."

 

"Smart man. Oh, and the station manager wants to talk about your segment yesterday. Apparently, your rant about the wealth gap got some calls."

 

Haden sighed. "Let me guess—advertisers aren't thrilled about me questioning capitalism?"

 

"Something like that. Just... tone it down today, okay? We need you sharp for the interview with the mayor."

 

"Right. The mayor." Haden had completely forgotten. Another politician making empty promises about affordable housing while developers continued building luxury condos no one who actually worked in the city could afford.

 

"I'll be there," he said, ending the call.

 

He grabbed his keys and laptop bag, pausing briefly at the door. The apartment felt particularly sterile this morning—all clean lines and modern furniture that had seemed so important when he'd furnished the place five years ago. Now it just felt like a showroom, not a home.

 

The elevator descended thirty-two floors without stopping. At 7:20 AM, most of his neighbors were already gone, racing toward jobs they complained about but couldn't afford to leave. Haden understood. His morning radio show paid well, but the golden handcuffs were tight.

 

In the underground parking garage, he slid into his black Audi, the leather seats cool against his back. The car started with a purr that still gave him a small thrill, one of the few things that did these days.

 

Traffic moved steadily through the tunnel, and Haden found himself on autopilot, his mind drifting as it often did during his commute. He thought about the show ahead, mentally preparing questions for the mayor while simultaneously wondering if any of it mattered. Would anything change? Would anyone care? Or was he just another voice in the cacophony, saying things people nodded along with before returning to lives that remained fundamentally unchanged?

 

The traffic slowed as he approached the exit. Red brake lights illuminated the tunnel walls, creating an eerie glow. Haden tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, impatience rising. He was cutting it close now.

 

When traffic finally started moving again, he accelerated perhaps a bit too quickly, merging onto the main thoroughfare leading to the WLKC building downtown. That's when he saw it—the flashing lights, the crumpled metal, the shattered glass scattered across the asphalt like diamonds.

 

A serious accident, not just a fender-bender. Two cars, maybe three. Emergency responders were already on scene, but Haden could see a man being lifted onto a stretcher, his face covered in blood. The man's suit was similar to Haden's—charcoal gray, white shirt, blue tie. Standard uniform for the city's professional class.

 

Traffic crawled past the scene. Haden couldn't look away. The man on the stretcher could have been him. Same age, same clothes, same commute. Just a random moment, a fraction of a second's difference in timing or decision-making, and their roles could have been reversed.

 

As Haden's car inched past, the injured man's eyes suddenly opened, locking with Haden's through the car window. Something passed between them—recognition, perhaps, not of each other as individuals but of their shared humanity, their shared vulnerability. Then the moment was gone, and Haden was driving on, the accident receding in his rearview mirror.

 

But something had shifted. The empty fortune, the accident—it felt like the universe was sending him a message. Life could change—or end—in an instant. And what would he leave behind? Hours of radio broadcasts that would be forgotten by lunchtime? A sterile apartment filled with expensive things that brought him no joy?

 

By the time Haden pulled into his reserved parking spot at the station, his heart was racing, his palms sweaty on the steering wheel. He wasn't having a panic attack—it was something else. Clarity, perhaps. Or fear. Or both.

 

"You're cutting it close," Jake said when Haden rushed into the studio, five minutes before air time. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

 

"I'm fine," Haden replied automatically, settling into his chair and putting on his headphones. But he wasn't fine. For the first time in years, he was awake.

 

The "ON AIR" light illuminated, and Haden leaned into the microphone, his voice smooth and practiced.

 

"Good morning, Lake City. This is Haden Snjougla on WLKC, and it's 8:00 AM on what might be the most important day of your life. Let's talk about what really matters."

 

Jake's eyes widened behind the glass, but Haden continued, the words flowing from some place deep inside him that had been silent for too long.

 

"I saw a man nearly die on my way to work today. He looked just like me—same suit, same tie, same desperate rush to get somewhere that, in the grand scheme of things, probably doesn't matter much at all. And it made me wonder: If that had been me on that stretcher, what would I regret? What would I wish I had said to the people I love? What would I wish I had taught my daughters before I ran out of time?"

 

Jake was frantically signaling through the window, pointing at the script, but Haden ignored him.

 

"So today, instead of our scheduled interview with Mayor Wilson about the new downtown development project—sorry, Mr. Mayor—I want to talk about what we're all racing toward. And what we're racing away from. Call in. Tell me what you'd regret leaving unsaid or undone. Tell me what really matters to you. Because I have a feeling it's not your job title or your stock portfolio or the make of your car."

 

The phone lines lit up immediately. Jake looked both panicked and intrigued. The station manager would be furious, but something told Haden this was the most important broadcast of his career.

 

And as he took the first call—a woman who confessed she hadn't spoken to her brother in fifteen years over a forgotten slight—Haden felt something he hadn't experienced in a very long time: purpose.

 

Chapter 2

By the time Haden's show ended at noon, the station's phone lines were still jammed. What had started as an impromptu deviation from the script had evolved into something profound—a four-hour collective examination of regret, purpose, and meaning that had resonated across the city.

 

"That was... something," Jake said as Haden removed his headphones. His producer's expression was a mix of admiration and concern. "The station manager wants to see you."

 

"I figured." Haden felt strangely calm. Whatever consequences awaited him seemed trivial compared to the realization that had been building inside him all morning.

 

The station manager, Patricia Winters, was waiting in her office, her face unreadable.

 

"Sit down, Haden."

 

He did, preparing himself for the reprimand.

 

"The mayor's office called," she began. "They're not happy."

 

"I understand."

 

"Three advertisers also called."

 

Haden nodded, accepting what was coming.

 

"They want to increase their ad buys for your segment."

 

He looked up, surprised.

 

Patricia allowed herself a small smile. "Turns out, authenticity sells. Your ratings this morning were the highest we've seen in five years. People are still calling, still talking about it on social media." She slid a tablet across the desk, showing him the trending hashtag: #WhatReallyMatters.

 

"So I'm not fired?"

 

"Fired? I'm giving you carte blanche for the rest of the week. Keep doing whatever that was. Just... maybe give us a heads-up next time you decide to reinvent radio."

 

Haden left the station in a daze. The adrenaline that had carried him through the broadcast was fading, leaving him exhausted but clear-headed. He didn't want to go back to his empty apartment, so he drove to Lakeside Park instead.

 

The park was quiet on a weekday afternoon. Haden found a bench overlooking the water and sat, watching the gentle waves lap against the shore. Each wave unique, yet part of something larger. Each one making its path to the shore before receding, making way for the next.

 

He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his missed calls and messages. Twenty-three calls, forty-seven texts. Friends, colleagues, even his ex-wife, Kaja. All of them had heard the broadcast. All of them wanted to know if he was okay.

 

Was he okay? Haden wasn't sure. He felt like he was waking up from a long sleep, disoriented but somehow more alive than he'd been in years.

 

One message caught his eye—from his daughter, Reyna.

 

"Dad, I heard your show today. It was... real. Can we talk? I miss you."

 

Reyna was twenty-three now, studying marine biology at the university on the coast. They spoke occasionally, their conversations polite but distant. When had that happened? When had his bright-eyed little girl, who used to run to him with such joy when he came home, become this guarded young woman who "missed" him despite them both being very much alive?

 

He called her immediately.

 

"Dad?" Her voice was tentative, as if she wasn't sure who she was speaking to anymore.

 

"Hey, Rain." The old nickname felt right. "Thanks for reaching out."

 

"Are you okay? Your show today was... different."

 

"I'm okay. Better than okay, actually. I think I'm finally waking up."

 

A pause. "What does that mean?"

 

"I'm not entirely sure yet. But I know I've been sleepwalking through my life for too long. Missing the things that matter." He took a deep breath. "Missing you."

 

Another pause, longer this time. "I've missed you too, Dad. The real you, I mean. Not the radio personality or the guy always checking his phone during dinner."

 

Her words stung, but Haden knew they were true. "I'd like to change that, if you'll let me."

 

"I'd like that too." Her voice softened. "Actually, I'm presenting my research at a conference next week. It's not far from you. Maybe you could come? It's probably boring for non-science people, but—"

 

"I'll be there," Haden interrupted. "Front row. Just text me the details."

 

After they hung up, Haden remained on the bench, watching the waves. Each one a moment, a choice, an opportunity. How many had he let slip by, too distracted by the noise of modern life to notice?

 

His phone buzzed again—a text from his younger daughter, Hilde, who was studying naturopathic medicine.

 

"Heard your show. Called Mom. She's worried you're having a midlife crisis. Are you?"

 

Haden smiled and typed back: "Not a crisis. An awakening. Want to have dinner this weekend? I want to hear all about your studies."

 

Her reply came quickly: "Sure. But fair warning—I'll talk your ear off about holistic healing and you won't be able to roll your eyes even once."

 

"Deal," he texted back, his smile widening.

 

As the afternoon light began to fade, Haden made his way back to his car. Instead of returning to his apartment, he found himself driving to a small bookstore he used to frequent years ago, before podcasts and audiobooks had replaced his reading habit.

 

The Bell Jar Books was still there, its warm lights inviting against the gathering dusk. Inside, the scent of paper and coffee enveloped him like an old friend. He wandered the aisles, running his fingers along the spines, until he found himself in the philosophy section.

 

A small, worn volume caught his eye: "Man's Search for Meaning" by Viktor Frankl. Haden had read it in college, but the words had been just that—words on a page, an assignment to complete. Now, as he flipped through the yellowed pages, the passages leapt out at him with new urgency:

 

"The meaning of life differs from man to man, from day to day and from hour to hour. What matters, therefore, is not the meaning of life in general but rather the specific meaning of a person's life at a given moment."

 

Haden purchased the book and one other—a blank journal. As he left the store, he felt lighter somehow, as if he'd set down a heavy burden he hadn't realized he was carrying.

 

That night, in his apartment that no longer felt like home, Haden opened the journal and began to write:

 

"Got an empty fortune cookie today. I'm taking it as a sign that my destiny is unwritten, waiting for me to choose. Today, I saw a man who could have been me, broken and bleeding on the side of the road. Today, I spoke truth on the air for the first time in years. Today, I remembered what it feels like to be fully alive.

 

"I don't know exactly what comes next, but I know this: I want to teach my daughters everything I've learned before it's too late. I want to show them how to find meaning in a world that often seems meaningless. I want to help them avoid the traps I fell into—the pursuit of status and things at the expense of connection and purpose.

 

"This journal is for them. And for me. A record of my awakening, and hopefully, a map they can use when they face their own existential questions.

 

"Tomorrow, I'll continue the conversation on air. I'll keep speaking truth, even when it's uncomfortable. Especially when it's uncomfortable. Because that's where growth happens.

 

"But the real work begins at home. With my daughters. With myself."

 

Haden closed the journal, feeling a sense of purpose he hadn't experienced in years. The empty fortune hadn't been a joke or a manufacturing error—it had been an invitation. An invitation to write his own destiny, to fill the blank page with meaning of his own making.

 

Outside his window, Lake City continued its restless dance of light and shadow. But for the first time in a very long time, Haden felt still. Centered. Ready.

 

Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new waves to navigate. But tonight, he would rest, knowing he had finally begun to wake up.

 

Chapter 3

The next morning, Haden arrived at the station an hour early, journal in hand, mind clear despite having slept only a few hours. The night had been filled with thoughts, memories, and realizations that demanded to be written down.

 

Jake was already there, nursing a large coffee and looking both excited and nervous.

 

"You're early," he said, eyeing Haden with curiosity. "And you look... different."

 

"Feel different," Haden replied, setting down his bag. "Ready for round two?"

 

"About that—you've got visitors." Jake nodded toward the conference room. "Station executives. They flew in from corporate this morning."

 

Haden's stomach tightened, but the fear that would have paralyzed him yesterday now felt distant, almost irrelevant. "Let me guess—they're not here to give me a raise."

 

"Actually, I have no idea. They've been very tight-lipped. But Patricia seems optimistic."

 

The meeting was brief and surprising. The executives—three men and a woman in expensive suits—had indeed flown in specifically to talk about Haden's broadcast. But instead of reprimands, they offered an opportunity: a syndicated version of his show, focused entirely on the themes he'd explored yesterday. Authenticity. Purpose. Meaning. The things that really matter.

 

"Your segment struck a chord," the woman, a senior VP named Eleanor, explained. "In a media landscape full of noise and division, you offered something genuine. We think there's a national audience for this."

 

Haden considered the offer. A year ago—even a day ago—he would have jumped at the chance for national syndication. It was the brass ring every local radio host reached for. But now, he hesitated.

 

"I appreciate the offer," he said carefully. "But I need to be clear about something. What happened yesterday wasn't a calculated move or a new format I was testing. It was a genuine moment of... awakening, I guess you could call it. I can't promise to replicate it on demand."

 

Eleanor nodded. "We don't want you to. We want whatever comes next—the real path, not a performance of one. Take the week. See where this goes. We'll talk again on Friday."

 

Back in the studio, with minutes to air, Jake looked at him expectantly. "So? What's the plan for today?"

 

Haden smiled. "No plan. Just truth."

 

The "ON AIR" light illuminated, and Haden leaned into the microphone.

 

"Good morning, Lake City. This is Haden Snjougla on WLKC. Yesterday, we started a conversation about what really matters. Today, I want to talk about inertia—the force that keeps us moving in the same direction, even when that direction isn't serving us anymore."

 

He paused, gathering his thoughts.

 

"I've been thinking about a cabin my grandfather built on a lake up north after he returned from war. Every summer of my childhood, my family would spend a week there. And every time, something magical would happen. The moment we turned onto that winding road leading to the cabin, a weight would lift from my shoulders. The noise of everyday life would fade away. I could breathe again.

 

"But then, inevitably, the week would end. We'd pack up the car and head home. And as we drove away, the weight would return, heavier than before because now I knew what it felt like to be without it.

 

"I've been carrying that weight for decades now—the inertia of modern life pushing me forward at breakneck speed, never allowing me to stop and ask: Is this the direction I want to be moving in? Is this path leading me toward what truly matters?

 

"Yesterday, I saw a man who could have been me, broken and bleeding on the side of the road. And in that moment, the inertia stopped. I woke up.

 

"So today, I'm asking: What's the inertia in your life? What's the force keeping you moving in a direction that might not be serving your highest good? And more importantly, what would it take for you to wake up?"

 

The phone lines lit up immediately. For the next four hours, Haden spoke with callers from all walks of life—a corporate lawyer who dreamed of opening a bakery, a nurse who hadn't taken a day off in three years, a college student drowning in debt and anxiety about a future they weren't sure they wanted.

 

Each conversation was different, but a common thread emerged: people were tired. Tired of the rat race, tired of the constant pressure to acquire and achieve, tired of postponing joy and meaning for some future that never seemed to arrive.

 

By the end of the show, Haden felt both drained and invigorated. He had tapped into something profound—a collective yearning for a more authentic, meaningful way of living.

 

As he was gathering his things to leave, Patricia appeared at the studio door.

 

"You've started something," she said, her expression thoughtful. "The question is: what are you going to do with it?"

 

Haden considered her question as he drove home. The empty fortune cookie, the accident, the broadcasts—they all felt like pieces of a puzzle he was just beginning to assemble. But the picture was still unclear.

 

His phone rang through the car's speakers. Kaja, his ex-wife.

 

"Hey," he answered, surprised. They rarely spoke outside of matters directly related to their daughters.

 

"Hey yourself," she replied. Her voice was warm but cautious. "I heard your shows. Both of them."

 

"And?"

 

"And... I'm not sure who this new Haden is, but I think I like him." A pause. "The girls do too. Hilde called me last night, excited about your dinner plans. It's been a while since I've heard her that enthusiastic about spending time with you."

 

The words stung, but Haden knew they were fair. "I've been absent, even when I was present."

 

"Yes, you have." No accusation in her tone, just acknowledgment of a shared truth. "But it sounds like that's changing."

 

"It is. At least, I want it to be."

 

Another pause. "Good. They need their father. The real one, not the distracted workaholic who's been playing the role for the past decade."

 

After they hung up, Haden found himself driving not toward his downtown apartment but toward the suburbs, to the house he had once shared with Kaja and the girls. The house he had left behind when the marriage ended, when the inertia of his career had seemed more important than the slow, patient work of building a family.

 

He parked across the street, looking at the familiar facade. The maple tree in the front yard had grown taller, its branches now reaching past the second-story windows. The garden Kaja had always tended so carefully was still there, bursting with late summer blooms.

 

A wave of regret washed over him. Not just for the marriage—they had both contributed to its end—but for the father he hadn't been, the moments he had missed, the connections he had allowed to fray while chasing success as defined by a culture that valued achievement over presence.

 

As he sat there, a text message arrived from Reyna: "Conference details attached. It's next Thursday at 2 PM. No pressure, but it would mean a lot if you could make it."

 

Haden replied immediately: "I'll be there. Nothing could keep me away."

 

Then, making a decision, he started the car and drove not back to his apartment but to a real estate office he had noticed near the park. It was time for a change—a physical manifestation of the internal shift that was taking place.

 

By the end of the day, Haden had put his downtown apartment on the market and made an offer on a small house near the lake, just a fifteen-minute drive from where his daughters lived with their mother. The house needed work—the kitchen was outdated, the deck weathered—but it had large windows that filled the rooms with light and a view of the water that reminded him of his grandfather's cabin.

 

That night, sitting on the floor of his soon-to-be-former apartment surrounded by boxes, Haden opened his journal again:

 

"Day two of my awakening. The inertia is strong—decades of momentum pushing me toward more of the same. But I'm pushing back. Today I put my apartment up for sale and made an offer on a house by the lake. A place where I can breathe. A place where my daughters might want to visit.

 

"The radio show continues to evolve. People are responding to authenticity in a way I never expected. They're hungry for it. Starving for it. We've all been fed a steady diet of distraction and materialism for so long that we've forgotten what real nourishment feels like.

 

"Corporate wants to syndicate the show nationally. Part of me is tempted—the old Haden who measured his worth by his reach and influence. But another part hesitates. This path feels personal, intimate. Can it scale without losing its soul?

 

"I don't have the answer yet. But I know this: whatever comes next, I want it to serve the awakening, not just my ego or bank account. I want it to create ripples that reach my daughters and beyond, ripples of authenticity and presence in a world drowning in artifice and distraction.

 

"Tomorrow, I'll talk about trade-offs on the show. The things we give up, often unconsciously, in pursuit of what society tells us we should want. The moments missed. The connections sacrificed. The parts of ourselves we silence or neglect.

 

"And then I'll have dinner with Hilde. I'll listen—really listen—to her passion for holistic medicine. I'll be present in a way I haven't been for too long.

 

"One day at a time. One wave at a time. The ripples are spreading."

 

Haden closed the journal and looked around at the sleek, modern apartment that had never really felt like home. In three days, he had upended his entire life—his career, his living situation, his relationship with his daughters. It should have felt terrifying. Instead, it felt like finally swimming with the current instead of against it.

 

Outside, the city lights twinkled against the night sky. Somewhere out there, his daughters were living their lives, pursuing their passions. Reyna, studying the mysteries of marine ecosystems. Hilde, learning to heal through natural medicine. They had found their paths despite his absence, not because of his guidance.

 

But it wasn't too late to change that. To be the father they deserved. To share with them the wisdom he was only now beginning to grasp himself.

 

Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new waves to navigate. But tonight, Haden felt ready to face them—not as the polished radio personality he had hidden behind for so long, but as his authentic self. Flawed, learning, awakening.

 

The ripples were just beginning.

 

Chapter 4

Haden arrived at Hilde's favorite vegetarian restaurant fifteen minutes early, a small wrapped package tucked under his arm. He chose a quiet table by the window and watched as people passed by on the sidewalk outside—each absorbed in their own world, their own story.

 

At precisely seven o'clock, Hilde walked in. At twenty-one, she was a striking young woman with her mother's dark hair and Haden's thoughtful eyes. She spotted him immediately and approached with a mixture of curiosity and caution.

 

"Dad," she said, giving him a quick hug before sitting down. "You look... different."

 

"So I've been told," Haden replied with a smile. "Good different, I hope?"

 

"Just... different. More present, somehow." She studied him. "Your shows this week have been intense. Mom thinks you're having some kind of breakdown."

 

"And what do you think?"

 

Hilde considered the question. "I think you're finally having a breakthrough."

 

Something warm bloomed in Haden's chest—pride, perhaps, or simple gratitude for his daughter's insight. "That's exactly it. I've been asleep for too long, Hilde. Missing what matters."

 

"Like my graduation?" The words weren't accusatory, just matter-of-fact.

 

Haden winced. He had missed Hilde's college graduation the previous spring, sending a gift and a text message instead of being there in person. At the time, he had justified it with an important interview he couldn't reschedule. Now, the excuse seemed hollow.

 

"Yes," he admitted. "Like your graduation. And a hundred other moments I can never get back." He pushed the small package across the table. "This isn't to make up for that—nothing could. But I saw it and thought of you."

 

Hilde unwrapped the package carefully. Inside was a vintage book: "The Healing Power of Herbs," published in 1938.

 

"I found it at that old bookstore near the park," Haden explained. "The owner said it's quite rare—written by one of the early female pioneers in naturopathic medicine."

 

Hilde's eyes widened as she gently turned the pages. "Dad, this is... incredible. Thank you."

 

"You're welcome." He paused. "I want to hear about your studies. Everything. No glossing over the technical details because you think I'll be bored."

 

And so, over dinner, Hilde talked. About her classes, her professors, her internship at a holistic healing center. About her dream to open her own practice someday, combining traditional wisdom with modern science. About the patients she hoped to help—not just treating symptoms but addressing root causes, seeing the whole person.

 

Haden listened—really listened—asking questions, absorbing her passion and knowledge. He realized with a pang how little he had known about his daughter's life and aspirations. How many conversations like this had he missed, distracted by emails or preoccupied with his own career?

 

"What about you, Dad?" Hilde asked as they shared a dessert. "These shows you're doing... where are they leading?"

 

"I'm not entirely sure," Haden admitted. "But I know I can't go back to the way things were. I've been offered national syndication."

 

"That's huge! Congratulations!"

 

"Thank you. But I'm still deciding if it's the right path. I don't want to lose the authenticity that's making the current shows resonate."

 

Hilde nodded thoughtfully. "You know what I think? I think people are starving for real connection. For someone to articulate the things they're feeling but can't quite put into words. That's what you're doing now."

 

"Maybe," Haden said. "But there's a trade-off. The bigger the platform, the more pressure to perform, to maintain ratings. I'm afraid of losing the very thing that's making this work."

 

"That's always the trade-off, isn't it?" Hilde mused. "Growth versus authenticity. Reach versus depth."

 

"Exactly. And I've spent too many years making the wrong choices in that equation."

 

After dinner, they walked along the lakefront, the conversation flowing more easily than it had in years. As they were about to part ways, Hilde hugged him—a real hug this time, not the perfunctory greeting from earlier.

 

"I've missed you, Dad," she whispered. "The real you."

 

"I've missed me too," Haden replied, his voice thick with emotion. "But I'm finding my way back."

 

The next morning, Haden arrived at the station with renewed clarity. The dinner with Hilde had crystallized something for him—a understanding of the trade-offs he had been making unconsciously for years, and a determination to choose differently moving forward.

 

As the "ON AIR" light illuminated, he leaned into the microphone.

 

"Good morning, Lake City. This is Haden Snjougla on WLKC. Today, I want to talk about trade-offs—the choices we make, often without realizing we're making them, that shape our lives in profound ways.

 

"Last night, I had dinner with my daughter. A simple thing, right? A father and daughter sharing a meal, catching up on each other's lives. But as we talked, I realized how many dinners I've missed. How many conversations I've half-listened to while checking emails or thinking about work. How many moments of connection I've traded for... what, exactly?

 

"Status? Money? The approval of people whose opinions shouldn't matter more than the love of my own children?

 

"We all make these trade-offs. Time versus money. Security versus freedom. Achievement versus presence. The problem isn't that we make them—it's that we often make them unconsciously, defaulting to what society values rather than what truly matters to us.

 

"So today, I'm asking: What trade-offs are you making? Are they conscious choices that align with your deepest values? Or are they unconscious defaults that are leading you away from what matters most?

 

"The lines are open. Let's talk about the choices that shape our lives."

 

The calls poured in immediately—a stay-at-home mom who felt guilty for wanting time for herself, a corporate executive who had missed his son's childhood chasing promotions, a young artist who was considering abandoning her passion for a stable but soul-crushing job.

 

Each conversation was a exploration of values, choices, and the often invisible forces that shape our decisions. By the end of the show, a common theme had emerged: the most painful trade-offs were the ones made unconsciously, the ones people drifted into rather than chose with intention.

 

After the broadcast, Haden met with Patricia and the corporate executives. They were still enthusiastic about syndication, but now Haden had conditions.

 

"I need creative control," he said firmly. "No scripted segments, no pre-approved topics. This only works if it's authentic."

 

Eleanor, the senior VP, studied him. "That's unusual in syndication. There are standards, expectations—"

 

"I understand," Haden interrupted. "But this isn't a typical show. It's a path—my path, and the path of everyone who calls in. I can't predict where it will go, and I won't pretend to."

 

"What about advertisers? Some topics might make them uncomfortable."

 

Haden considered this. "Then we need advertisers whose values align with the show. Companies that are doing meaningful work, not just selling products people don't need."

 

To his surprise, Eleanor smiled. "That's actually refreshing. Authentic brands want authentic platforms. It limits our pool, but it might create deeper partnerships." She extended her hand. "We have a deal, Mr. Snjougla. 'What Really Matters with Haden Snjougla' launches nationally in two weeks."

 

As Haden left the station that afternoon, his phone rang. It was the real estate agent—his offer on the lakeside house had been accepted. Another piece falling into place.

 

He drove to the house, parking in what would soon be his driveway. The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the water. A pair of ducks glided across the surface, leaving gentle ripples in their wake.

 

Haden walked down to the small dock that extended into the lake. The boards creaked beneath his feet—another repair to add to the list. But the view was worth every penny and every hour of work it would take to make this place his home.

 

He sat at the edge of the dock, feet dangling above the water, and opened his journal:

 

"Day three of my awakening. The trade-offs are becoming clearer. For years, I've been exchanging presence for achievement, connection for status, meaning for comfort. No more.

 

"Tonight I had dinner with Hilde. Really had dinner with her—present, engaged, listening. I learned more about her in two hours than I had in the past two years. The trade-off? A few emails that went unanswered, a podcast episode I didn't listen to. Nothing of value lost, everything of value gained.

 

"The syndication deal is moving forward, but on my terms. Creative control. Authentic partnerships. No compromise on the core mission: to explore what really matters, to wake people up to the trade-offs they're making unconsciously.

 

"And the house by the lake is mine. A place to breathe, to think, to welcome my daughters. A place where inertia loses its power, where the noise of modern life fades to a whisper.

 

"Tomorrow, I'll talk about identity on the show. The masks we wear, the roles we play, the stories we tell ourselves about who we are and what we're worth. And then I'll begin the work of making this house a home—not just with furniture and paint, but with presence and intention.

 

"One day at a time. One wave at a time. The ripples continue to spread."

 

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the lake, Haden felt a deep sense of peace settle over him. The path ahead wasn't entirely clear, but the direction was right. For the first time in years—perhaps ever—he was making conscious choices aligned with his deepest values.

 

The trade-offs would continue. There would be financial implications to his new path, professional challenges, personal growth edges to navigate. But now he was awake to them, choosing them with eyes wide open rather than drifting unconsciously with the current of cultural expectations.

 

A fish jumped nearby, creating concentric circles that expanded outward across the still water. Haden watched the ripples spread, a visible reminder of how a single moment, a single choice, could affect everything around it.

 

Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new waves to navigate. But tonight, sitting on his dock as the day's light faded into dusk, Haden felt ready to meet them—not as the person he had pretended to be for so long, but as the person he was becoming. Authentic. Present. Awake.

 

The trade-offs were worth it.

 

Chapter 5

Reyna's research presentation was being held in the Marine Sciences building at Coastal University, a modern glass structure that seemed to rise organically from the rocky shoreline. Haden arrived forty-five minutes early, his stomach fluttering with a mixture of pride and nervousness.

 

He found the lecture hall easily and slipped into a seat in the front row. The room was still mostly empty—just a few professors and students setting up equipment and reviewing notes. Reyna was at the podium, arranging her presentation materials, completely focused on the task at hand.

 

Haden watched his older daughter with a sense of wonder. When had she become this poised, confident young woman? Her movements were precise, her expression serious but not tense. She wore her dark hair pulled back in a practical ponytail, her simple blue dress professional without being stuffy.

 

She looked up suddenly, scanning the room, and her eyes widened when she saw him. A smile broke across her face—a real smile, not the polite one she had been offering him for years. She held up a finger in a "one minute" gesture and finished her preparations before approaching him.

 

"You came," she said, sounding genuinely surprised despite his assurances.

 

"I said I would." Haden stood, unsure whether to hug her or shake her hand. They had grown so formal with each other.

 

Reyna solved the dilemma by embracing him briefly. "I know, but... you've said that before."

 

The words stung, but Haden nodded, acknowledging the truth in them. "That was the old me. I'm trying to be someone different now. Someone better."

 

"I've been listening to your shows," Reyna said, studying him. "They're... not what I expected."

 

"Good different or bad different?"

 

"Just different. More real." She glanced back at the podium. "I should finish setting up. But... thank you for coming. It means a lot."

 

"I wouldn't miss it for anything," Haden replied, and this time, he meant it completely.

 

The presentation was fascinating, even to Haden's untrained ear. Reyna spoke about her research on microplastic pollution in marine ecosystems, her voice growing more animated as she described the innovative filtration system she had helped develop. Her passion was palpable, her knowledge impressive.

 

During the Q&A session, a professor asked a particularly challenging question about the scalability of her solution. Reyna hesitated for just a moment, and Haden felt a surge of protective instinct. But then she gathered herself and delivered a thoughtful, nuanced response that earned an approving nod from the questioner.

 

Pride swelled in Haden's chest. This remarkable young woman was his daughter. And he had nearly missed witnessing her becoming who she was meant to be.

 

After the presentation, as the audience dispersed, Reyna approached him again, this time with a tall young man in tow.

 

"Dad, this is Marcus. My research partner and..." she hesitated, then continued with determination, "...my boyfriend."

 

"It's great to meet you, sir," Marcus said, extending his hand. "Reyna's told me a lot about you."

 

Haden shook the young man's hand, wondering what exactly Reyna had shared. Had she told him about the missed birthdays? The perfunctory phone calls? The gradual distancing as Haden's career had consumed more and more of his attention?

 

"All good things, I hope," he said, attempting lightness.

 

"She said you're changing the conversation about what matters," Marcus replied. "That's important work."

 

Before Haden could respond, Reyna jumped in. "We were going to grab dinner at the seafood place down by the harbor. Would you like to join us?"

 

The invitation was clearly spontaneous, perhaps even surprising to Reyna herself. But the openness in her expression was genuine.

 

"I'd love to," Haden said simply.

 

Dinner was a revelation. Reyna and Marcus spoke about their research, their plans for graduate school, their dreams of working with international conservation organizations. Haden listened, asked questions, and gradually felt the formal distance between him and his daughter begin to dissolve.

 

"What about you, Dad?" Reyna asked as they shared dessert. "These new shows... where do you see them going?"

 

Haden told them about the syndication deal, the creative control he had negotiated, the house by the lake.

 

"You're selling the apartment?" Reyna seemed shocked. "But you loved that place."

 

"Did I?" Haden considered. "I think I loved what it represented—success, status, having 'made it.' But I never really felt at home there."

 

"And you will at this new place?" Marcus asked.

 

"I think so. It reminds me of Grandpa's cabin—the one we used to visit every summer. Do you remember that, Reyna?"

 

A soft smile spread across her face. "Of course. Those were the best weeks of the year."

 

"They were for me too," Haden admitted. "I just forgot that somewhere along the way."

 

As they walked back to their cars after dinner, Reyna hung back, letting Marcus walk ahead.

 

"Dad," she said quietly, "I want you to know... I'm proud of you. For what you're doing now. It can't be easy to change course so dramatically."

 

Haden felt his throat tighten with emotion. "Thank you. That means more than you know." He hesitated, then added, "I'm sorry, Reyna. For all the times I wasn't there. For all the moments I missed."

 

"I know," she said simply. "But you're here now."

 

They hugged goodbye—a real embrace this time, not the awkward, perfunctory ones they had exchanged for years. As Haden watched Reyna and Marcus drive away, he felt both profound gratitude for this reconnection and a deep ache for all the time he had wasted.

 

The next morning, as Haden prepared for his broadcast, he reflected on the identities he had worn throughout his life—the ambitious student, the rising radio personality, the distant father, the awakening seeker. Each had shaped his choices, his relationships, his understanding of his own worth.

 

As the "ON AIR" light illuminated, he leaned into the microphone.

 

"Good morning, Lake City. This is Haden Snjougla on WLKC. Today, I want to talk about identity—the stories we tell ourselves about who we are, and how those stories shape everything we do.

 

"Yesterday, I attended my daughter's research presentation at Coastal University. As I watched her confidently explain complex scientific concepts, field challenging questions, and share her passion for marine conservation, I felt an overwhelming sense of pride. But also regret.

 

"Because for too long, I had defined myself primarily as a radio host, a professional, a success story. Those identities consumed me, leaving little room for the identity that should have mattered most: being a father.

 

"We all wear multiple identities—professional, personal, public, private. The problem comes when one identity dominates to the exclusion of others, when we forget that we are whole, complex beings with multiple roles to play and gifts to share.

 

"So today, I'm asking: What identities do you wear? Which ones serve your highest good, and which ones limit you? Which ones reflect your authentic self, and which ones are masks you've adopted to please others or meet cultural expectations?

 

"The lines are open. Let's talk about who we really are beneath the roles we play."

 

The calls came immediately—a teacher who had lost herself in her professional identity, a new mother struggling to reconcile her pre-baby self with her current reality, a recent retiree trying to figure out who he was without his career to define him.

 

Each conversation explored the complex relationship between identity and authenticity, between the roles we play and the person we truly are beneath them all.

 

By the end of the show, Haden felt both exhausted and exhilarated. These broadcasts were demanding in a way his previous work had never been—requiring a level of presence and vulnerability that left him drained but fulfilled.

 

As he was gathering his things to leave, Jake appeared at the studio door.

 

"That was powerful stuff," his producer said. "You're really going there, aren't you?"

 

"Trying to," Haden replied. "No point in doing this if I'm not willing to go deep."

 

"Well, it's working. The response has been incredible. Not just locally—people are streaming the segments online from all over the country."

 

Haden nodded, grateful but also aware of the responsibility that came with this growing platform. "Any word on the syndication timeline?"

 

"That's actually why I stopped by. They want to launch next Monday—sooner than originally planned. The momentum is building, and they want to capitalize on it."

 

"Monday," Haden repeated, feeling a flutter of both excitement and apprehension. "That's fast."

 

"Too fast?"

 

Haden considered the question. Was he ready to take this conversation national? To expose his path, his awakening, his vulnerabilities to a much larger audience?

 

"No," he decided. "Not too fast. The timing feels right."

 

That afternoon, Haden drove to his new house by the lake. The previous owners had moved out the day before, and he now had keys to what would become his home. The house was empty, waiting to be filled not just with furniture but with new memories, new connections, new life.

 

He walked through the rooms slowly, imagining how they might look once he had settled in. The living room with comfortable seating arranged to take advantage of the lake view. The kitchen updated but simple, a place for cooking meals with his daughters. The spare bedrooms ready for Reyna and Hilde whenever they wanted to visit.

 

On the back deck, overlooking the water, Haden sat on the weathered steps and opened his journal:

 

"Day four of my awakening. Identity has been on my mind—how we define ourselves, how those definitions limit or expand our possibilities.

 

"For too long, I defined myself primarily by my career, my success, my public persona. Father, son, friend, seeker—these identities took a back seat, receiving whatever scraps of attention remained after the workday was done. Usually, there wasn't much left.

 

"Yesterday with Reyna showed me both what I've lost and what might still be possible. She's become this incredible young woman largely without my guidance. That's a hard truth to face. But she's also opening the door to a new relationship—not erasing the past, but not held captive by it either.

 

"The syndication deal is moving faster than expected. By Monday, 'What Really Matters' will be broadcasting nationally. The platform is growing, the responsibility with it. Can I maintain the authenticity that makes this work while reaching a much larger audience? I believe I can, but only by staying rooted in my true identity—not as a radio personality, but as a seeker sharing his path with fellow travelers.

 

"This house will be part of that rootedness. A place to remember who I am beneath the roles I play. A place to welcome my daughters, to rebuild those precious connections. A place to breathe.

 

"Tomorrow, I'll talk about presence on the show. The gift of being fully here, fully engaged with whatever—and whoever—is before us. And then I'll begin the work of turning this house into a home, starting with the deck where Reyna and Hilde and I can sit together, watching the sunset over the lake.

 

"One day at a time. One wave at a time. The ripples continue to spread, wider now, reaching shores I cannot see."

 

As the afternoon light began to fade, Haden remained on the deck, watching the gentle waves lap against the shore. Each one unique, yet part of something larger. Each one making its path to the shore before receding, making way for the next.

 

Like the identities we wear throughout our lives. Each one serving its purpose for a season, then giving way to what comes next. The key was not becoming so attached to any single identity that we forget the deeper self beneath them all—the consciousness that witnesses, chooses, grows.

 

Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new waves to navigate. But tonight, as the first stars appeared in the darkening sky above the lake, Haden felt a deep sense of homecoming—not just to this place, but to himself. The self he had always been beneath the masks and roles. The self he was now, finally, allowing to emerge.

 

The path was just beginning.

 

Chapter 6

Moving day arrived with perfect late summer weather—clear blue skies, a gentle breeze off the lake, temperatures warm but not oppressive. Haden had hired professional movers for the furniture and larger items, but he wanted to handle his personal belongings himself.

 

As he packed the last boxes in his downtown apartment, he was struck by how little he actually cared about most of his possessions. The expensive art on the walls, the designer furniture, the high-end electronics—all had been purchased to project an image of success, not because they brought him joy or meaning.

 

What he carefully wrapped himself were the few items that held genuine significance: photos of his daughters from happier times, books that had shaped his thinking, a small wooden box his grandfather had carved. Everything else could be replaced, or better yet, not replaced at all.

 

By mid-afternoon, the movers had delivered everything to the lake house, and Haden stood in his new living room surrounded by boxes and furniture waiting to be arranged. The space was flooded with natural light from the large windows overlooking the water. Even in disarray, it already felt more like home than his apartment ever had.

 

His phone buzzed with a text from Hilde: "Need help unpacking? Reyna and I could come by tomorrow."

 

Haden's heart leapt at the offer. "That would be amazing," he replied. "I'll provide lunch. And fair warning—the place is a mess."

 

"Perfect," came Hilde's response. "We'll be there at 11. Reyna's bringing Marcus too."

 

Haden spent the evening unpacking essentials and arranging the furniture in the living room to create a comfortable seating area focused on the lake view rather than a television. As he worked, he found himself fully absorbed in the task, present in a way he rarely had been in recent years.

 

When he finally stopped for a late dinner—takeout eaten on the deck as the sun set over the water—he realized he hadn't checked his phone or email in hours. The constant digital tether that had defined his existence for so long had loosened its grip, if only temporarily.

 

The next morning, Haden woke early, made coffee, and took it out to the deck. The lake was still, reflecting the sky like a perfect mirror. A heron stood motionless in the shallows, watching for fish. The scene had a timeless quality—it could have been a hundred years ago or a hundred years in the future.

 

He sat there, simply observing, until the coffee grew cold in his mug. No agenda, no distraction, no multitasking. Just presence. It felt both foreign and deeply familiar, like returning to a home he had forgotten he had.

 

At precisely eleven, a car pulled into the driveway. Moments later, Reyna, Marcus, and Hilde appeared around the side of the house, carrying coffee and pastries.

 

"Dad!" Hilde called, spotting him on the deck. "This place is gorgeous!"

 

The next few hours were filled with unpacking, arranging, laughing, and storytelling. The girls reminisced about the cabin they had visited as children, finding echoes of it in this new space. Marcus proved handy with tools, fixing a loose railing on the deck and helping Haden assemble bookshelves for his study.

 

Around one o'clock, they broke for lunch—sandwiches eaten picnic-style on a blanket near the water's edge. The conversation flowed easily, touching on Reyna's research, Hilde's studies, Marcus's background in environmental engineering, and Haden's evolving radio show.

 

"So it's going national on Monday?" Reyna asked, leaning back on her elbows. "That's huge, Dad."

 

"It is," Haden agreed. "Exciting but also a little terrifying."

 

"Why terrifying?" Marcus asked.

 

Haden considered the question. "Because it's real now. Not just a performance or a career move, but something that matters. Something that might actually help people wake up to what's important before they lose it."

 

"Like you did?" Hilde's question was gentle but direct.

 

"Yes," Haden admitted. "Like I did. Though I hope I haven't lost it completely. Just misplaced it for a while."

 

"You haven't," Reyna said quietly. "Lost us, I mean. We're still here."

 

The simple statement, offered without drama or accusation, brought tears to Haden's eyes. "Thank you," he managed. "For giving me another chance."

 

The moment hung between them, fragile but genuine. Then Hilde broke the tension with a laugh. "Don't get sappy on us now, Dad. We've still got about fifty boxes to unpack."

 

They worked together through the afternoon, transforming the house from a collection of rooms filled with boxes to the beginnings of a home. By the time Reyna, Marcus, and Hilde left in the early evening, the essential spaces were functional and beginning to feel lived-in.

 

"We'll be back soon," Hilde promised as they said goodbye. "Maybe next weekend? We could grill out on the deck."

 

"I'd love that," Haden said, hugging each of them. "Thank you. For today. For everything."

 

After they left, Haden walked through the house, taking in the transformation. It wasn't just the arranged furniture or unpacked kitchen. It was the energy of the space—warmed by laughter, connection, presence. For the first time in years, he had been fully present with his daughters, not distracted by work or digital devices or his own restless thoughts.

 

The next morning, as Haden prepared for his final local broadcast before syndication, he reflected on the quality of presence he had experienced the day before—and how rare it had become in modern life.

 

As the "ON AIR" light illuminated, he leaned into the microphone.

 

"Good morning, Lake City. This is Haden Snjougla on WLKC. Today, I want to talk about presence—the increasingly rare gift of being fully here, fully engaged with the moment and the people before us.

 

"Yesterday, I moved into a new home by the lake. My daughters and my daughter's boyfriend came to help me unpack. We spent the day arranging furniture, organizing books, sharing meals, and telling stories. Nothing extraordinary—except for one thing: I was actually there. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. Not checking my phone every five minutes, not thinking about work, not half-listening while my mind wandered elsewhere. Just... present.

 

"And it struck me how rare that has become—not just for me, but for all of us. We live in an age of unprecedented distraction. Our devices ping and buzz, demanding attention. Our minds jump from task to task, rarely settling fully on any one thing. We're physically in one place while mentally in another, constantly divided, constantly scattered.

 

"The cost is enormous. We miss the moments that matter. We fail to see the people right in front of us. We sacrifice depth for breadth, quality for quantity, meaning for information.

 

"So today, I'm asking: When was the last time you were fully present? Not multitasking, not distracted, not somewhere else in your mind—but fully engaged with the moment and the people before you? And what would it take to create more of those moments in your life?

 

"The lines are open. Let's talk about the power of presence."

 

The calls poured in—a father who realized he couldn't remember the last conversation he'd had with his son without checking his phone, a wife who felt invisible to her husband when he was home but mentally still at work, a college student who found herself unable to read a book without the urge to check social media every few pages.

 

Each conversation explored the challenges of maintaining presence in a world designed to fragment attention, and the profound difference it makes when we manage to be fully where we are.

 

By the end of the show, a clear theme had emerged: presence is both increasingly difficult and increasingly precious in modern life. It requires intention, practice, and often, the courage to disconnect from the digital tether that has become so central to our existence.

 

After the broadcast, Haden met with Jake and Patricia to discuss the transition to syndication.

 

"Monday's show will air from the new studio they've set up for you," Patricia explained. "Same format, bigger reach. The technical team wants you there early to test equipment and get comfortable with the space."

 

"Will you still be producing?" Haden asked Jake.

 

"For the first month, yes. Then they're bringing in someone with national experience, but I'll stay on as associate producer."

 

"I requested that specifically," Haden said. "I need someone who knows the real me, not just the radio personality. Someone who'll tell me if I start slipping back into performance mode."

 

Jake nodded, understanding the responsibility. "I won't let you get away with anything less than authentic."

 

That evening, Haden sat on his deck watching the sunset paint the sky in shades of orange and pink. The water reflected the colors, doubling their beauty. A pair of loons called to each other across the lake, their haunting cries echoing in the stillness.

 

He opened his journal:

 

"Day five of my awakening. Presence has been my teacher today—the simple yet profound gift of being fully here, fully engaged with the moment and the people before me.

 

"Yesterday with Reyna and Hilde showed me what I've been missing all these years. Not just the big moments—graduations, achievements, milestones—but the ordinary ones. Conversations over lunch. Laughter while unpacking boxes. The subtle shifts in expression that reveal what someone is really feeling beneath their words.

 

"I've been physically present but mentally absent for too long. Showing up but not showing up. Going through the motions while my mind raced ahead to the next thing, the next achievement, the next distraction.

 

"The cost has been enormous. Relationships that became formal and distant. Memories never formed because I wasn't really there to experience the moments. A life half-lived, even as I checked all the boxes of conventional success.

 

"Tomorrow is my last local broadcast before syndication. Monday, 'What Really Matters' goes national. The platform is growing exponentially, the responsibility with it. The only way I can serve this larger audience authentically is by remaining present—not getting caught up in ratings or reviews or the pressure to perform, but staying rooted in the path itself.

 

"This house helps. The lake helps. My daughters' willingness to rebuild our connection helps. But ultimately, presence is a practice, a choice I must make moment by moment, day by day.

 

"Tomorrow, I'll talk about simplicity on the show. The power of doing less but being more fully engaged in what remains. And then I'll spend the weekend continuing to settle into this new home, this new life—not rushing to fill every space or moment, but allowing things to unfold with intention and awareness.

 

"One day at a time. One wave at a time. The ripples continue to spread, wider now, reaching shores I cannot see."

 

As the last light faded from the sky, Haden remained on the deck, watching the first stars appear. The modern world made presence increasingly difficult—devices constantly pinging, information endlessly flowing, attention continuously fragmented. But it also made presence increasingly precious, a rare gift in a distracted age.

 

Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new waves to navigate. But tonight, under the emerging stars reflected in the still water, Haden practiced the art of simply being here. Not doing, not achieving, not planning or remembering—just being. Present to the beauty around him, the gentle rhythm of his breath, the profound gift of this moment, this life.

 

The path continued, one present moment at a time.

 

Chapter 7

The weekend passed in a blur of unpacking, arranging, and settling into the lake house. By Sunday evening, Haden had transformed the space from a collection of rooms filled with boxes to a home that reflected his evolving values—comfortable but not ostentatious, functional but beautiful, designed for connection rather than impression.

 

He had made deliberate choices about what to keep and what to let go. The massive television from his apartment now sat in the donation pile, replaced by bookshelves filled with volumes he had always meant to read. The formal dining set had given way to a simple wooden table that could accommodate his daughters and their friends for shared meals. His home office was arranged to face the lake, prioritizing natural beauty over status symbols.

 

As he prepared for bed that night—his first national broadcast just hours away—Haden felt a curious mixture of excitement and peace. The path ahead wasn't entirely clear, but the direction was right. He was simplifying not just his physical surroundings but his approach to life itself—focusing on what truly mattered and letting go of the rest.

 

Monday morning arrived with a spectacular sunrise over the lake. Haden woke early, made coffee, and took it out to the deck for what was becoming his morning ritual—a time of quiet presence before the day's demands began.

 

The new studio was located in a sleek office building downtown, its walls adorned with the logos of nationally syndicated shows. As Haden was escorted through the space by a production assistant, he felt a momentary pang of doubt. Was he ready for this larger stage? Could he maintain the authenticity that had made his local broadcasts resonate while reaching a much wider audience?

 

The control room was staffed with unfamiliar faces, save for Jake, who gave him an encouraging thumbs-up through the glass. The studio itself was state-of-the-art—soundproofed walls, professional-grade equipment, comfortable seating for in-studio guests.

 

"Two minutes to air," a voice announced through his headphones.

 

Haden closed his eyes, centering himself. This wasn't about him, he reminded himself. It wasn't about ratings or recognition or career advancement. It was about the conversation—the exploration of what really matters in a world that often prioritizes everything but.

 

"Thirty seconds."

 

He opened his eyes, took a deep breath, and leaned toward the microphone.

 

"Ten seconds... five, four, three, two..."

 

The "ON AIR" light illuminated.

 

"Good morning, America. This is Haden Snjougla, and you're listening to 'What Really Matters.' Today, I want to talk about simplicity—the counterintuitive idea that doing less, owning less, and wanting less might actually lead to more. More meaning, more connection, more joy.

 

"This weekend, I finished moving into a new home by a lake. It's smaller than my previous apartment, further from the city, and furnished with about half the possessions I once owned. And yet, it already feels more like home than anywhere I've lived in years.

 

"As I unpacked and arranged, I found myself making choice after choice about what to keep and what to let go. Each decision was guided by a simple question: Does this thing, this habit, this commitment add real value to my life? Does it support what truly matters to me?

 

"It's a question most of us rarely ask. Instead, we accumulate—possessions, commitments, relationships, activities—without pausing to consider whether they're enriching our lives or just complicating them. We add but seldom subtract. We say yes but rarely no.

 

"The result is lives that are full but not necessarily fulfilled. Busy but not necessarily meaningful. Complex but not necessarily rich.

 

"So today, I'm asking: What might simplicity look like in your life? What could you let go of—physically, mentally, emotionally—to create more space for what truly matters?

 

"The lines are open. Let's talk about the power of less."

 

The calls began immediately—a woman who had downsized from a five-bedroom house to a small apartment after her divorce and found unexpected freedom, a young professional who had quit his six-figure job to teach high school science and never been happier, a retired couple who had sold most of their possessions to travel the country in an RV.

 

Each conversation explored a different facet of simplicity—not as deprivation but as intentional choice, a deliberate curation of life to emphasize quality over quantity, depth over breadth, meaning over status.

 

By the end of the show, Haden felt both exhilarated and humbled. The national platform amplified the conversation, but the core remained the same—authentic exploration of the questions that matter most.

 

As he was gathering his things to leave, Eleanor, the senior VP who had championed the syndication deal, appeared at the studio door.

 

"Congratulations," she said warmly. "Early numbers look excellent, and the social media response has been overwhelmingly positive."

 

"Thank you," Haden replied. "It felt right."

 

"It sounded right too. Authentic, engaging, thought-provoking—exactly what we hoped for." She handed him a sleek folder. "These are the guest possibilities we discussed. Authors, experts, thought leaders who align with the show's themes. No pressure to book any of them, but they're available if you want to incorporate interviews."

 

Haden accepted the folder with a nod of thanks. "I'll look them over. The right conversations with the right people could definitely enrich what we're doing."

 

As he drove back to the lake house, Haden reflected on the irony—a show about simplicity launching on a national platform, with all the complexity that entailed. Could he maintain the essence while expanding the reach? Could he navigate the inevitable pressures of ratings and relevance without losing sight of the core mission?

 

The questions lingered as he arrived home, changed into casual clothes, and took a walk along the lakeshore. The afternoon sun warmed his face as he followed a narrow path through trees and over rocks, eventually reaching a small, secluded cove.

 

He sat on a boulder at the water's edge, watching small waves lap against the shore. Each one unique, yet part of something larger. Each one making its path to the shore before receding, making way for the next.

 

His phone buzzed in his pocket—a text from Hilde: "Heard the national debut! So proud of you, Dad. You're going to change lives with this conversation."

 

Then another, from Reyna: "Listened while working in the lab. Marcus says you're 'disrupting the paradigm,' whatever that means. I think he's impressed. So am I."

 

Warmth spread through Haden's chest that had nothing to do with the afternoon sun. His daughters were listening. They were proud. They were engaging with the conversation he was trying to start.

 

That evening, as twilight settled over the lake, Haden sat on his deck with a simple meal and opened his journal:

 

"Day six of my awakening. Simplicity has been my focus today—the power of doing less but being more fully engaged in what remains.

 

"The national show launched this morning. Larger platform, wider reach, more complexity behind the scenes. The irony isn't lost on me—talking about simplicity through a medium that is anything but simple. Yet the conversation itself remains direct, authentic, human. That's what matters.

 

"This weekend I finished settling into the lake house. Each decision about what to keep and what to let go felt like a small act of liberation. The space is simpler but richer, less crowded but more meaningful. Room to breathe. Room to think. Room to welcome others.

 

"Reyna and Hilde both reached out after the show. They're listening. They're proud. They're engaging with the conversation. That means more than any ratings or reviews ever could.

 

"The path ahead isn't entirely clear, but the direction is right. Simplify. Focus on what matters. Let go of the rest. Not just in my physical surroundings but in my approach to life itself.

 

"Tomorrow, I'll talk about connection on the show. The profound human need for genuine relationship, for being seen and known, for belonging to something larger than ourselves. And then I'll continue preparing for the weekend—Reyna and Hilde and Marcus are coming for dinner on Saturday. A simple meal shared on the deck, watching the sunset over the lake. Nothing fancy, nothing impressive. Just presence, connection, love.

 

"One day at a time. One wave at a time. The ripples continue to spread, wider now, reaching shores I cannot see."

 

As darkness fell, stars appeared in the clear sky above, reflected in the still water below. Haden remained on the deck, breathing in the night air, feeling the quiet simplicity of this moment—no agenda, no distraction, no performance. Just being here, now, alive to the beauty around him and within him.

 

Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new waves to navigate. But tonight, in this simple moment of stillness, Haden felt a profound sense of rightness. He was exactly where he needed to be, doing exactly what he needed to do.

 

The path continued, one simplified choice at a time.

 

Chapter 8

The week passed in a blur of broadcasts, each one exploring a different facet of what really matters—connection, purpose, resilience, joy. The national audience grew daily, with listeners calling in from across the country to share their stories, their struggles, their awakenings.

 

Haden found himself both energized and humbled by the response. People were hungry for this conversation, starving for authenticity in a world often dominated by artifice and distraction. They wanted permission to question the cultural narratives that had shaped their choices, to imagine different ways of living and being.

 

By Friday, "What Really Matters with Haden Snjougla" had become the most downloaded new podcast in the country, and requests for interviews were pouring in from major media outlets. Eleanor and the syndication team were ecstatic, already talking about expanding to television.

 

But as Haden drove home after Friday's broadcast, his mind was focused not on ratings or expansion but on tomorrow's dinner with his daughters. He stopped at the local farmers' market to buy fresh vegetables, artisan bread, and a small batch of homemade cookies for dessert. He wanted everything to be perfect—not in a showy, impressive way, but in a thoughtful, intentional one.

 

Saturday dawned clear and warm, a perfect late summer day. Haden spent the morning preparing—marinating chicken for the grill, chopping vegetables for a salad, setting the deck table with simple but beautiful place settings. By mid-afternoon, everything was ready, and he took a moment to sit by the lake, watching dragonflies dart above the water's surface.

 

His phone buzzed with a text from Reyna: "On our way! Should be there in about 30 minutes."

 

Excitement and a touch of nervousness fluttered in Haden's chest. This would be the first time he had hosted his daughters in his new home—the first real test of whether this place could become a gathering point for his reconnected family.

 

When they arrived—Reyna and Marcus in one car, Hilde in another—Haden welcomed them with genuine joy. They explored the house, now fully arranged and settled, exclaiming over the views and the personal touches Haden had added since their help with unpacking.

 

"It feels like you," Hilde said, running her hand along a bookshelf filled with volumes on philosophy, psychology, and nature. "The real you, I mean. Not the image you used to project."

 

"That's the highest compliment you could give me," Haden replied, touched by her perception.

 

They gathered on the deck for appetizers as the afternoon sun began its descent toward the horizon. The conversation flowed easily—updates on Reyna's research, Hilde's studies, Marcus's work with an environmental engineering firm. Haden listened more than he spoke, savoring the simple pleasure of his daughters' company.

 

As he prepared to grill the chicken, Reyna followed him to the side of the deck where the grill was set up.

 

"So," she said, leaning against the railing, "national radio host, huh? How does it feel?"

 

Haden considered the question as he arranged the chicken on the grill. "Surreal, in some ways. Overwhelming, in others. But mostly... right. Like I'm finally using my voice for something that matters."

 

"It shows," Reyna said. "I've never heard you sound so... authentic on air. Like you're actually having a conversation, not performing."

 

"That's exactly what I'm trying to do," Haden admitted. "No script, no persona. Just real exploration of the questions that matter."

 

"Well, it's working. My friends are all listening now. Even my professors."

 

Haden looked up, surprised. "Really?"

 

"Really. You're starting something, Dad. A conversation people have been wanting to have but didn't know how to begin."

 

The simple validation from his daughter meant more than all the ratings and downloads combined. Haden felt a lump form in his throat. "Thank you," he managed. "That means everything."

 

Dinner was served as the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the lake. They ate at the table on the deck, sharing food and stories and laughter. Haden noticed how Hilde's eyes lit up when she talked about her holistic healing studies, how Reyna and Marcus exchanged small touches and glances that spoke of deep connection, how the tension that had long characterized their family gatherings had given way to genuine warmth.

 

As they were finishing dessert—the cookies paired with local ice cream—Hilde cleared her throat.

 

"Dad," she began, "there's something I've been wanting to ask you."

 

"Anything," Haden replied, noting the serious shift in her tone.

 

"My program requires a final project—developing a holistic wellness plan for a real client. I was wondering... would you be willing to be my subject?"

 

Haden blinked, surprised and touched. "Me? Are you sure? I'm hardly a model of wellness."

 

"That's exactly why," Hilde explained. "You're in transition. Awakening, as you call it. It's the perfect time to integrate physical, mental, and spiritual practices that support where you're trying to go."

 

"Plus," Reyna added with a grin, "she needs someone who won't flake out halfway through."

 

"I'd be honored," Haden said sincerely. "Though I should warn you, my meditation attempts so far have mostly involved falling asleep."

 

"We'll work on that," Hilde promised, her expression brightening. "I'll put together an initial assessment for next weekend, if that works?"

 

"It's a date," Haden agreed.

 

As the evening deepened into night, they moved inside to the living room, where Haden had arranged comfortable seating around a small fireplace. Though it was still too warm for a fire, the space invited intimate conversation.

 

"I have something to share too," Reyna said as they settled in. "Marcus and I have been accepted to a research expedition in the Galapagos next summer. Six weeks studying marine conservation in one of the most diverse ecosystems on the planet."

 

"That's incredible!" Haden exclaimed. "Congratulations to both of you."

 

"Thanks," Reyna said, exchanging a smile with Marcus. "It's a huge opportunity. But..." she hesitated, "it means I'll miss your birthday, Dad. The big one. Fifty."

 

"Don't remind me," Haden groaned good-naturedly. "And don't worry about the birthday. This opportunity is far more important."

 

"Still," Hilde jumped in, "we should do something special before they leave. Maybe a trip? The three of us, plus Marcus if he can come. Somewhere meaningful."

 

"Like Grandpa's cabin?" Reyna suggested. "Is it still in the family?"

 

Haden nodded slowly. "Cousin Jeff owns it now. But I'm sure he'd let us use it for a week. It's been years since I've been back there."

 

"That would be perfect," Hilde said enthusiastically. "A return to where it all began. Before Reyna and Marcus head off to save the ocean, and before I start my clinical rotations."

 

As they discussed the possibility—timing, logistics, memories of past visits—Haden felt a profound sense of connection. Not just to his daughters but to the continuum of his life—past, present, and future woven together in a web of meaning.

 

Later, after Reyna, Marcus, and Hilde had left with promises to return soon, Haden sat alone on the deck, watching the moon's reflection shimmer on the lake's surface. The evening had been everything he had hoped for and more—not just a pleasant gathering but a genuine reconnection, a rebuilding of bonds that had frayed but never fully broken.

 

He opened his journal:

 

"Day seven of my awakening. Connection has been the theme today—the profound human need for genuine relationship, for being seen and known, for belonging to something larger than ourselves.

 

"Tonight I hosted Reyna, Marcus, and Hilde for dinner at the lake house. We shared food, stories, laughter. But more importantly, we shared ourselves—our hopes, our plans, our lives. The formal distance that had characterized our relationship for too long is dissolving, replaced by something authentic and alive.

 

"Hilde has asked me to be the subject for her final project—a holistic wellness plan integrating physical, mental, and spiritual practices. Reyna and Marcus have been accepted to a research expedition in the Galapagos next summer. We're planning a family trip to Grandpa's cabin before they leave—a return to where so many meaningful memories were formed.

 

"These connections—to my daughters, to their lives and dreams, to our shared past and future—feel like the true measure of a life well-lived. Not achievement or acquisition or recognition, but love. Simple, profound, transformative love.

 

"The national show continues to grow beyond all expectations. Listeners are engaging deeply, sharing their own paths of awakening. The conversation is spreading, the ripples widening. But tonight reminded me that the most important conversations happen in living rooms and on decks, between people who are willing to be real with each other.

 

"Tomorrow is Sunday—no broadcast, no obligations. Just a day to rest, to reflect, to be present to the life I'm now choosing to live. I'll take a long walk along the lakeshore. I'll read on the deck. I'll call my mother, a connection I've neglected for too long.

 

"One day at a time. One wave at a time. The ripples continue to spread, wider now, reaching shores I cannot see."

 

As Haden closed his journal, a profound sense of peace settled over him. The path of awakening was far from complete—there would be challenges ahead, old patterns reasserting themselves, new growth edges to navigate. But tonight, in this moment, he felt the rightness of the path he had chosen.

 

Connection—to himself, to his daughters, to his listeners, to the natural world around him—was not just a theme for a broadcast but the very essence of a meaningful life. Everything else—success, status, possessions—was secondary to this fundamental human need to be in genuine relationship.

 

Tomorrow would bring new experiences, new waves to navigate. But tonight, under the moon's gentle light reflected on the still water, Haden felt profoundly grateful for the connections that anchored his life—and for the awakening that had reminded him of their essential value.

 

The path continued, one authentic connection at a time.

 

Chapter 9

Autumn arrived at the lake with spectacular colors—maples turning fiery red, aspens glowing gold, the deep green of pines providing contrast against the changing deciduous trees. Each morning, mist rose from the water's surface, creating an ethereal landscape that took Haden's breath away.

 

The national show had settled into a rhythm—four hours each weekday exploring the questions that matter most, with listeners calling in from across the country to share their paths, their struggles, their awakenings. Haden had begun incorporating occasional interviews with authors, researchers, and thought leaders whose work aligned with the show's themes, but the heart remained the same—authentic conversation about what really matters.

 

Hilde's holistic wellness plan for Haden was in full swing. Each weekend, she visited to guide him through new practices—meditation techniques that didn't end in sleep, gentle yoga sequences designed for his fifty-year-old body, nutritional approaches that emphasized energy and clarity rather than restriction.

 

"The goal isn't perfection," she reminded him during one session. "It's integration—bringing your physical, mental, and spiritual dimensions into alignment."

 

Integration had become Haden's focus in all areas of his life—not compartmentalizing work, family, health, and purpose, but seeing them as interconnected facets of a whole life. The boundaries he had once maintained so rigidly—between professional and personal, public and private—were softening, allowing for a more authentic expression of his complete self.

 

This integration extended to his relationship with his daughters. Reyna and Marcus visited regularly, often bringing research papers or articles they thought might interest Haden. Hilde had begun storing some of her textbooks and materials at the lake house, claiming the small second bedroom as her "weekend study." The space was evolving from Haden's home to a family gathering place—exactly what he had hoped for.

 

Even his relationship with Kaja, his ex-wife, had improved. They weren't friends, exactly, but they had found a new respect for each other as co-parents of their remarkable daughters. Occasionally, Kaja would text Haden about something she had heard on his show, offering insights or challenging his perspectives in ways that pushed his thinking.

 

One crisp October morning, as Haden sat on his deck with coffee, watching golden leaves drift onto the lake's surface, his phone rang. It was Eleanor, the senior VP who had championed his syndication.

 

"Good news," she began without preamble. "The network wants to extend your contract for three years, with a significant increase in both reach and compensation."

 

"That's... wow," Haden replied, genuinely surprised. "I didn't expect to be having this conversation so soon."

 

"The response has been unprecedented," Eleanor explained. "You've tapped into something people are hungry for. Authenticity. Meaning. A different way of measuring success."

 

"I'm honored," Haden said sincerely. "And grateful for the opportunity to continue the conversation."

 

"There's more," Eleanor continued. "They want to expand the platform—a companion book, a speaking tour, potentially a television component down the line."

 

Haden felt a familiar flutter of ambition—the old drive for more, bigger, better that had characterized his earlier career. But now it was tempered by the wisdom of his awakening.

 

"I'm open to exploring those possibilities," he said carefully, "but with some conditions. The integrity of the conversation has to remain paramount. No ghostwriters for the book—it needs to be my authentic voice. No corporate sponsors whose values don't align with the show's message. And any speaking engagements need to be structured for real dialogue, not just me talking at people."

 

"I expected nothing less," Eleanor replied, and Haden could hear the smile in her voice. "Draw up your terms. We'll make it work."

 

After they hung up, Haden remained on the deck, processing the conversation. The opportunity was significant—a chance to expand the awakening conversation to even more people, through multiple channels. But it also presented challenges—how to maintain authenticity and presence while navigating a more complex professional landscape.

 

He texted both his daughters: "Big news about the show. Would love your perspective. Free for dinner tonight?"

 

Their responses came quickly—both could make it, and Hilde offered to bring food from their favorite Thai restaurant. By six o'clock, they were gathered around the dining table, sharing green curry, pad thai, and spring rolls as Haden explained the network's offer.

 

"That's incredible, Dad," Reyna said when he finished. "But I hear some hesitation in your voice."

 

"Perceptive as always," Haden acknowledged. "I'm excited about the opportunity to reach more people with this conversation. But I'm also wary of the potential complications—more demands on my time, more pressure to perform, more temptation to slip back into old patterns."

 

"The irony isn't lost on me," Hilde observed. "A show about what really matters becoming a major media property."

 

"Exactly," Haden agreed. "How do I navigate that tension? How do I use this platform without being used by it?"

 

"By staying grounded in why you're doing this in the first place," Reyna suggested. "Not for success or recognition, but because the conversation matters."

 

"And by maintaining your practices," Hilde added. "Meditation, time in nature, regular connection with people who know and love the real you. Those are your anchors."

 

"Plus," Reyna said with a grin, "you have us to keep you honest. If we see you slipping back into workaholic mode or getting caught up in your own hype, we'll stage an intervention."

 

"Promise?" Haden asked, only half-joking.

 

"Promise," both daughters replied in unison.

 

Later that evening, after Reyna and Hilde had left, Haden took a walk along the lakeshore under a sky brilliant with stars. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of fallen leaves and wood smoke from distant fireplaces. He found his favorite boulder by the water's edge and sat, listening to small waves lap against the shore.

 

The decision about the network's offer felt clear now—he would accept the expanded platform but on terms that protected the integrity of the conversation and his own well-being. No more sacrificing presence for achievement, connection for status, meaning for success.

 

Back at the house, Haden opened his journal:

 

"Day sixty of my awakening. Integration has been my focus—bringing the various dimensions of my life into alignment rather than compartmentalizing them.

 

"The network has offered a significant expansion of the platform—a three-year contract, a book, a speaking tour, potentially television. An opportunity to reach more people with this conversation about what really matters. But also a challenge—how to use this platform without being used by it, how to maintain authenticity and presence while navigating a more complex professional landscape.

 

"Reyna and Hilde provided the wisdom I needed tonight. Stay grounded in why I'm doing this—not for success or recognition, but because the conversation matters. Maintain the practices that keep me anchored—meditation, time in nature, regular connection with people who know and love the real me. And rely on those closest to me to keep me honest if I begin to drift back into old patterns.

 

"The path of awakening continues to unfold in unexpected ways. What began as a personal crisis—an empty fortune cookie, a near-miss accident, a moment of clarity—has evolved into something larger than myself. A conversation that resonates with people across the country. A platform for exploring the questions that matter most.

 

"I accept this responsibility with both humility and determination. Humility because I am still awakening myself, still learning, still growing. Determination because the conversation matters too much to compromise its integrity for commercial success or personal gain.

 

"Tomorrow I'll call Eleanor to accept the offer, with the conditions we discussed. Then I'll take a long hike in the woods near the lake, grounding myself in the natural world that has become such an important teacher. In the afternoon, I'll work on the outline for Monday's show—exploring the theme of integration, the bringing together of all dimensions of life into a coherent whole.

 

"One day at a time. One wave at a time. The ripples continue to spread, wider now, reaching shores I cannot see."

 

As Haden closed his journal, he felt a deep sense of peace—not the passive peace of resignation but the active peace of alignment, of living in accordance with his deepest values. The path ahead would bring new challenges, new growth edges, new opportunities for both impact and ego. But he faced them now with clear eyes and an open heart, grounded in what really matters.

 

The empty fortune cookie that had sparked his awakening months ago now seemed like a perfect metaphor—not an absence but an invitation. An invitation to write his own destiny, to fill the blank page with meaning of his own making. An invitation he had finally accepted, not just for himself but for all who might benefit from the conversation he had started.

 

Outside his window, the lake reflected the starry sky, each point of light doubled in the still water. Above and below, past and future, inner and outer—all connected in this present moment, this integrated now.

 

The path continued, one authentic choice at a time.

 

Epilogue: The Waves We MakeOne year after his awakening began, Haden stood on the dock of his grandfather's cabin, watching the sunrise over the lake. Reyna, Marcus, Hilde, and even Kaja had joined him for this week-long retreat before Reyna and Marcus departed for their Galapagos expedition.

 

The cabin was smaller than he remembered, more rustic, but the feeling it evoked remained the same—a lifting of weight, a quieting of noise, a return to what matters most.

 

The past year had brought changes both profound and subtle. The national show had continued to grow, now broadcasting in every major market across the country. The book, "What Really Matters," had spent twelve weeks on the bestseller list. The speaking tour had taken Haden to cities across the country, where he had engaged in dialogue with thousands of people on their own paths of awakening.

 

But the most significant changes were personal. His relationship with his daughters had deepened into genuine friendship and mutual respect. His approach to work had transformed from driven ambition to purposeful service. His understanding of success had shifted from external metrics to internal alignment.

 

He was not perfect—old patterns still emerged under stress, old wounds still ached in vulnerable moments. But he was awake now, conscious of his choices and their consequences, committed to a life of presence, authenticity, and connection.

 

As the sun cleared the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold, Haden heard footsteps on the dock behind him. Reyna joined him at the edge, wrapping a sweater around her shoulders against the morning chill.

 

"Couldn't sleep?" she asked, bumping his shoulder gently with hers.

 

"Just wanted to catch the sunrise," Haden replied. "Some things are worth waking up for."

 

Reyna smiled at the double meaning. "A lot has changed in a year."

 

"Everything and nothing," Haden mused. "The external circumstances of my life look very different. But the essential path remains the same—learning to be present, to connect authentically, to focus on what really matters."

 

"You've helped a lot of people start that path," Reyna said. "Including me."

 

Haden looked at his daughter, surprised. "You? But you were already so clear about your path, your purpose."

 

"About my career, yes," Reyna acknowledged. "But there were other areas where I was just as asleep as anyone. Relationships. Self-care. The tendency to measure my worth by my achievements rather than my character."

 

"And that's changed?"

 

"It's changing," Reyna corrected with a smile. "Awakening is a process, not an event. Isn't that what you always say on the show?"

 

Haden laughed. "Busted. Using my own words against me."

 

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, watching a heron glide low over the water's surface.

 

"I'm proud of you, Dad," Reyna said quietly. "Not just for the show or the book or any of that. For the courage to change. To wake up. To choose a different path."

 

Tears pricked at Haden's eyes. "Thank you," he managed. "That means everything."

 

From the cabin behind them came the sounds of awakening—a door opening, voices, laughter. The day was beginning, full of simple pleasures—fishing, swimming, cooking together, conversations around the fire.

 

"We should head back," Reyna suggested. "Hilde's making her famous pancakes."

 

"You go ahead," Haden said. "I'll be there in a minute."

 

After Reyna left, Haden remained on the dock, watching small waves lap against the shore. Each one unique, yet part of something larger. Each one making its path to the shore before receding, making way for the next.

 

Like the moments of our lives. Like the choices we make. Like the ripples of our awakening, spreading outward in ways we cannot fully see or measure.

 

One day at a time. One wave at a time. The path continues.