Good Things Can Always Wait

Feature image by TruShotz

HOF — This morning, I woke up with a heavy heart, so I took a walk in nature. There’s an airfield not far from where I live — sometimes U.S. Chinooks come in fleets to refuel there — and between it and my block runs a dirt road. It’s not my favorite place to walk, but in summer I used to go there to watch the planes.

One day, I walked that route with my heavy Pentax camera but couldn’t take any pictures. I like carrying my 4.4-pound camera even when I don’t plan to use it — it grounds me somehow and keeps me from taking too many pictures. Before reaching the airfield that day, I came across a tree that pulled me toward it — it felt almost spiritual. I tried to take a photo but realized I’d forgotten to put an SD card in the camera. I didn’t want to use my phone; I’ve always believed smartphones ruined photography — and there’s some truth to that. So I let it go, telling myself I’d take the photo another time.

I remember thinking, good things can always wait. It’s something life has tried to teach me since my late twenties, though I haven’t fully learned it yet — sometimes I still chase fleeting things. Looking back, that moment by the tree was the last bit of calm and clarity in an otherwise eventful summer.

That was months ago. Since fall began, I’d been meaning to visit that tree again. After a friend encouraged me to go out for some air, I finally went. I took my Pentax with me — and again, forgot to put an SD card in it. I realized it right after leaving my building and almost went back, but decided to just go with the flow — to walk without purpose, carrying a heavy camera that couldn’t capture anything.

The dirt road looked even more beautiful in autumn. In summer, the trees make it feel enclosed, but now the light filters through, revealing their quiet inner beauty. I didn’t want to take photos with my phone — it wouldn’t do them justice. And then I realized it was a blessing not to have an SD card. Otherwise, I’d have obsessed over taking perfect pictures instead of focusing on why I went there — to find strength and clarity.

So I walked, trying to stay present. It helped me reconfigure my thoughts, to reach a kind of neutrality. When I arrived, the tree was still there — beautiful and resilient. It’s a multi-stemmed tree growing from a single root base. Maybe it was cut down once, or damaged when the roadside was cleared — yet it found a way to rise again from the old stump.

I took a couple of photos with my phone anyway, to share with you — because that tree reminds me of us, humans. We live in uncertain, unjust, even violent times. From 9/11 to Covid, to Ukraine and Gaza, the whole world seems to be coming undone. We’re either unemployed or overqualified, overmedicated, isolated, and trapped in online echo chambers where everyone keeps shouting at one another.

No matter where we live, we’ve endured years of hardship, shaped by forces that tried to cut us down. But this isn’t the first time humanity has faced such darkness. Our past was far worse than our present. And yet we’ve always risen again — many bodies sharing the same roots, like a tree that keeps fighting back.

On my way back, I used my phone again to take a photo of the nicest part of the dirt road. It doesn’t do it justice, but maybe one day you’ll be in Hof, in Germany, in the fall, and find the dirt road that connects the city to the airfield — and maybe you’ll find that tree. Or maybe you won’t, and the future will hold something even better for you.

Until then, keep faith, stay patient, and remember: like a tree, good things can always wait. What matters is that you rise, find your path, and keep walking.