10:20 pm - unused stickers

I have packs and packs of stickers. Whole drawers filled with them. Stickers I’ve collected since toddlerhood, ones with sparkly unicorns, cartoon animals with googly eyes, delicate watercolor flowers, glossy gold stars. Some came from travel souveniers, others from birthday party favor bags or that one glorious aisle in the craft store where the light always seemed to hit the stickers just right.

Even now, they sit untouched in their pristine little packets. Their backs unpeeled. Edges crisp. Not a single one stuck to a notebook, water bottle, or journal. I used to take them out occasionally, spreading them across the carpet like museum artifacts, running my fingers over their surfaces and imagining where they might go if the time were ever right.

But somehow, it never was.

It’s not just the stickers. My room is a gallery of unused things. My most expensive perfume, the one with the elegant bottle shaped like a flower petal, has never once touched my wrist. It rests on a shelf, unopened. My fanciest necklace, a delicate gold one, is still in its original box. My favorite purse, buttery soft, sits high in my closet with the tag still attached. My maroon velvet heels have only ever touched carpet. They sit on my shelf with their soles clean.

I told myself I was waiting.

Waiting for the perfect moment.

The day when everything aligned just right. When I was dressed perfectly, feeling perfectly, going somewhere perfect. A day worthy enough to deserve the best of what I had.

But that day never came.

Not when I went to dinner with friends.

Not when I went to homecoming.

Not even on my birthday.

And then the other day, I was invited to a gala. I went to my closet, reached up, and pulled down those maroon shoes. It had been over two years since I bought them. They were still beautiful.

I sat down and slipped them on.

The toe box was too tight. The strap pinched. I stood and took a few steps, hoping they just needed breaking in. They didn’t.

They didn’t fit.

I sat back down, one shoe still half on my foot, the other dangling from my fingers.

It was such a small thing, but it forced me to sit there for a while.

What exactly had I been waiting for?

I didn’t cry. But I wanted to. Not for the shoes, really. But for the girl who had spent so long saving things for a day that never arrived. A girl who thought some future version of life would be brighter, grander, more deserving. That only then would she be allowed to enjoy what she had.

I thought about all the days I’d said no to using my stickers. No to spritzing my perfume. No to indulging, because the moment hadn’t felt perfect enough.

And in that quiet moment, I realized something:

The perfect moment doesn’t come with a flashy banner that says, “Today is the day you’ve been waiting for.”

It sneaks up on you in the form of shockingly good toast and unexpected compliments. In car rides with the windows down. In half-laughed conversations and warm hugs at 11:57 PM.

It happens on Tuesdays.

On days you wake up late.

On days the outfit doesn’t match but you wear it anyway.

On all the ordinary, imperfect, unpredictable days we pass over because we’re waiting for something better.

But what if the ordinary is the whole point?

Life is not about waiting for an occasion. Life is the occasion.

So now? I’m using the stickers.

I’m spraying the perfume, even if I’m just going to the grocery store.

I’m wearing the necklace on Tuesdays.

And I’m not waiting for a “better” moment to wear my next favorite shoes.

Last night, as I packed my supplies for the art camp I’ll be teaching at, I reached for my sticker packets- the same ones I’d saved for years. This time, I wasn’t saving them. I was giving them away. Not because the moment was perfect, but because I finally realized this is what my perfect looks like: little faces lighting up, joy over a glittery unicorn or a shiny gold star.

The perfect opportunity isn’t some flawless day. It’s life, unfolding in all its messy, beautiful glory.

Cheers,

emma