Mais Tarde -

Clara smiled sadly. "This is a Jar of Laters. My husband filled it for forty years. Every time he wanted to tell me he loved me but was too busy, he’d whisper it into the jar to save for 'mais tarde.' Every time he wanted to see the ocean or learn the piano, he’d put a note in here for 'later.'"

Here is a story about the weight of those two words and the power of "now." The Jar of "Later" Mais tarde

He didn't wait to build a house; he fixed the broken porch step. He didn't wait to write a book; he wrote a letter to an old friend. He realized that "mais tarde" is a place where dreams go to grow old and tired, but "agora" (now) is where they live. Clara smiled sadly

Elias was a man of many notebooks. One for the house he’d build "mais tarde," one for the stories he’d write "mais tarde," and one for the trips he’d take when the time was right. To Elias, "later" wasn't a delay; it was a vast, shimmering horizon where all his best versions lived. Every time he wanted to tell me he

Elias stayed silent. He looked at his notebooks—his own "jars" of paper. That evening, he didn't open his "later" notebook. Instead, he picked up a pen and wrote one sentence on the first page of a new one:

Procrastination is a messenger - Carol Milters