The Cost of Postponed Moments

My dad always promised we'd see his favorite band together. He bought two tickets—a promise sealed with

paper. 'Next year,' he’d always say. 'When I have more time off.

When the project is finished. I was busy, too. I thought,

'It's just a concert. There’s always time to go with Dad.' I prioritized my late-night studying,

my early career hustle. He prioritized his never-ending job." The band announced

a one-time, final reunion tour. I called him instantly, holding the faded, original ticket.

He sighed. 'I have a big presentation coming up. Can’t risk the travel. We’ll catch the

next tour, sport.' I was disappointed, but I hung up, believing in the 'next time.