One Box at a Time

What's on my mind?

My most ridiculous habit is moving a tiny sticker once a week.

I was moving my little sticker on the poster in our breakroom recently, and I can see the end of my 46th year approaching.

The poster is 90 lines tall and 52 boxes wide. Each box represents one week of my life. Every Monday, I move a tiny sticker forward one square. That’s it. That’s the whole “system.”

It’s also… kind of a big deal to me.

This poster came into my life shortly after I said goodbye to 7-year-old Jett on the eve of his 8th birthday.

I got down on my knees, looked him in the eyes, and said goodbye. I cried like crazy, and he mostly just wanted me to stop. 😂

I know that sounds dramatic. But it felt true in the moment: I’ll never have that version of him again. Yes, he woke up 8 years old and was basically the exact same kid… but still. The time is moving.

And I’m the kind of person who gets carried away—by thoughts, plans, and ambition. Part of me wants to fast-forward to the next thing. At the exact same time, I want everything to slow down.

This poster helps me in two very distinct ways.

First, it’s a blunt reminder of how fast time goes.

I heard it a thousand times right after my kids were born: “Enjoy it — it goes really fast.” And when you’re a parent running on no sleep, you almost want time to speed up. You just want them to get to the next stage. You want a full night of sleep. You want things to feel easier.

And then suddenly… they need less and less of you, and it can feel like they’re gone.

I knew it would go fast, but holy cow.

Moving my little sticker pulls me back into this week, this day, this moment. Savor it. That might mean a little less gets done — but at what cost if I don’t?

Second, it lets me see how much time I still have.

I may be a little more than halfway through my poster. But when I look at what I’ve been able to do with the time I’ve already lived… and then I look at how many boxes are still in front of me… I don’t feel dread.

I feel motivated.

More motivation to enjoy today — and to keep doing my best at whatever I decide to apply myself to next.

Also: I get a good laugh every time someone sees me moving the sticker and shakes their head. The feedback I get most often is some version of, “You’re ridiculous.”

Fair.

But it’s worked on me in a way that’s hard to explain. It’s one of those weird little practices that keeps bringing me back to the life I’m actually living—not the one I’m planning in my head.