THE MYTH OF ARRIVAL
ALM No.93, September 2026
ESSAYS
I spent much of my life in motion. From the place of my youth, I departed, convinced that somewhere beyond the familiar horizon lay the fulfillment I sought. Each new place promised reinvention. Each departure felt like an act of faith. I believed that happiness waited just ahead, disguised as accomplishment. And so I kept moving.
There were moments when I thought I had found it. A promotion. A friendship. A romance. A hard-won achievement. For a time, each seemed to confirm that I was finally arriving at the life I was meant to live. And yet, the feeling never lasted. Like a traveler chasing the last light of evening, I glimpsed satisfaction on the horizon, only to find it retreating each time I drew near. What I mistook for a destination was merely another mile marker on an endless road.
Now that I face the end of my journey where no maps are needed and no future beckons, I find myself looking back over the landscape of my life, and I understand my journey was never truly from place to place. It was an inward search carried outward, driven by the hope that achievement would quiet the restless belief that I was somehow unfinished. I mistook accomplishment for belonging and confused success with self-acceptance.
I recall the roads traveled, the risks taken, the dreams pursued, and I wonder how often I overlooked what was already present. How many beautiful mornings did I hurry through? How many acts of love did I receive too casually? How many quiet moments of contentment escaped my notice because I was so intent on becoming someone else?
My regret is not that I failed to reach every summit. No life is large enough for that. My regret is that I believed fulfillment belonged somewhere beyond the life I was already living. And so, I am left with a melancholy understanding. While I searched distant horizons for the person I hoped to become, life itself unfolded with patient generosity, asking only to be noticed before memory became all that remained.
Frank Zahn writes nonfiction, fiction, and poetry about people navigating loss, memory, injustice, work, aging, and the quiet reckonings that arrive when life refuses to simplify itself. His publications include nonfiction books, articles, commentaries, book reviews, and essays; novels; short stories; and poetry. Currently, he writes and enjoys life at his home among the evergreens in Vancouver, Washington, USA. For details, visit his website, www.frankzahn.com.
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