The Beauty of Temporary Things

In English, we only get one way to say I am.
I am from the United States.
I am a Democrat.
I am a baker.
I am cold.
Same words. Same structure. One neat little grammatical box that pretends identity and experience are the same thing.
But they aren’t.
Because the truth is, we are not always all things at all times. I will always be from the United States. That part sticks. But I’m not always cold. And someday, if I stop making muffins from scratch on Sunday mornings, I probably won’t call myself a baker anymore either.
English shrugs at this distinction. Spanish, meanwhile, pours a glass of wine, pulls up a chair, and says, “Oh mijo, let me explain something.”
Spanish gives us two ways to be: ser and estar.
Or in everyday speech: soy and estoy.
Soy is permanence. Essence. The things that root you.
Soy Americano. I am American.
Soy homosexual. I am gay.
Soy creativo. I am creative.
Yo soy Nickolas. I am Nickolas.
These are the deep roots. The truths that hold steady even when life gets messy. Soy grounds you. It anchors identity. It reminds you there are parts of yourself that remain even when everything else shifts.
But then comes the more interesting verb.
Estoy.
Estoy is temporary. Alive. In motion. It describes what is happening right now, knowing full well it might change in five minutes.
Estoy frío. I am cold.
Estoy en el trabajo. I am at work.
Estoy durmiendo. I am sleeping.
Perra, estoy cansado. Bitch, I’m tired.
And here’s the part I love most: Spanish quietly teaches us that feelings, states, and moments are not permanent identities. They are experiences passing through us.
You are not tired forever. You are tired right now.
You are not lonely forever. You are lonely today.
You are not broken. You are going through something.
Soy roots you.
But estoy lets you live.
The joy of life lives almost entirely in the estoys.
Happiness is an estoy.
The holidays are an estoy.
Dinner with friends that somehow lasts four hours is an estoy.
That perfect cup of coffee when the temperature hits exactly right and the world pauses for one sacred sip. Definitely an estoy.
Even desire lives there.
The electric moment when you discover someone is into the same kinks you are. The shared grin. The sudden recognition. The feeling of being seen without explanation. That spark isn’t permanent identity. It’s presence. It’s connection happening in real time.
An estoy.
We spend so much energy trying to make temporary feelings permanent. We chase happiness like it’s supposed to become a fixed state, something we can graduate into and stay forever.
But Spanish gently disagrees.
Joy isn’t something you are.
Joy is something you experience.
You don’t need to be permanently happy. You just need to notice when you are happy right now.
Because life is built from moments, not monuments.
Your soys give you stability. They tell you who you are when the lights go out and the noise fades.
But your estoys? Those are the stories you’ll actually remember.
The laughter.
The warmth.
The perfectly timed kiss.
The unexpected conversation.
The night that went longer than planned.
The morning coffee that tasted like hope.
We are rooted by what stays.
We are fulfilled by what passes.
So hold onto your soys. They matter.
But don’t miss your estoys.
They’re where life is happening. Right now.