Almost Is a Heavy Word

Outside my high school, a bronze plaque read:
“Much good work is lost for lack of a little more.” — Edward H. Harriman

At sixteen I walked past it. Lately, it keeps walking back to me.

Why is so much good work lost? Not always because of crisis. Often, it’s the softer thing: excuses—the line of least resistance dressed as reason. Almost finished. Almost started. Almost said what mattered.

Almost is heavy because it looks close to done but cashes out the same as never. A seed never planted. A step never taken.

I think about the man on the dock waiting for his ship to come in. It never did. Not because the sea was unkind—but because he never sent one out. Wanting the harvest without the planting cuts against the grain of nature itself: action → reaction. When I was young I heard, “The world doesn’t owe you anything—but it will compensate you for the value you add.” That line still straightens my spine.

This isn’t a sermon. It’s a note to self I’m sharing out loud.

This morning, coffee in hand, I opened my drafts folder and found three emails living at ninety percent. I pictured that plaque and wrote four words on a sticky note: send the ship today. One edit. One click. One little more.

Here’s the pearl I’m keeping: Almost is an invitation. If you notice it in the wild—I almost asked, I almost tried, I almost reached out—treat it as a cue, not a verdict. Add a little more. Plant the seed. Press send.

Carry this question:
Where am I waiting for a ship I haven’t launched—and what is my “little more” today?

If this hit a nerve, you might enjoy The Signal — where I sometimes share small prompts and quiet notes like this, reminders to keep going past “almost.”