From the Founder, Brian Mazza 9/5
The 5-Minute Inconvenient Walk
The other day, I did something so small, so ordinary, that at first, I didn’t even notice the impact it would have. But looking back, it was something that made me pause for a moment.
I recently purchased a new truck, and I was headed out with one of my kids to do some shopping. When we pulled into the store’s parking lot, it was packed. Cars were circling like sharks for a close spot, tempers rising as everyone fought for convenience. I had a choice: cram myself into a tight space close to the door where I would be at risk of someone sloppy hitting my door, or park way out where the lot was practically empty.
For the sake of protecting my new truck (and honestly, my sanity), I chose the farthest spot I could find. Obnoxiously far. So far that we couldn’t even see the store from where we parked.
At first, I thought it was just an inconvenience. But then, as we started walking, my son quietly reached over and grabbed my hand. No phone buzzing. No cars honking. No distractions. Just the two of us, side by side, taking a long walk to the store. And something happened in that five minutes. We talked. We laughed. He told me about what’s coming up on his schedule for the fall—our overcommitted, overpacked schedule that somehow still feels like it’s flying by too fast. In that moment, time slowed down. It wasn’t about the truck, or the distance, or even the shopping trip. It was about us. That walk became priceless.
Why This Matters…as a Parent
We live in a world that’s addicted to shortcuts. Closest parking spot. Fastest delivery. Shortest line. Quickest results which I call the curse of The Amazon World.
Convenience has become king, but sometimes convenience robs us of connection.
That five-minute walk reminded me that distance creates space. Space to talk. Space to notice. Space to actually be with someone. How often do we miss these moments because we’re so obsessed with getting there faster?
Parents, especially—we’re guilty of this. We rush from one thing to the next, checking boxes, shuttling kids, filling calendars. But ask yourself: when was the last time you slowed down and gave your child five minutes of undivided, undistracted presence?
Not five minutes of “listening while scrolling.” Not five minutes of “uh-huh, uh-huh” while thinking about your emails. I mean five minutes where they know you’re all in. I am very guilty of this at times.
That’s what I got in that parking lot. Not because I planned it. Not because I scheduled “quality time.” But because I parked a little farther away.
The Lesson Hidden in the Inconvenience
These are the cracks where connection slips in—if we let it. So, the next time you find yourself parking “too far away” or waiting longer than you’d like, flip the script. See it as a gift, not a hassle. That space might just hold the conversation, the laugh, the memory you’ve been too busy to notice.
My Challenge to You
Here’s my takeaway: the five-minute walk is always there. It’s not always a literal parking lot stroll. Sometimes it’s bedtime with your kids. Sometimes it’s sitting at the dinner table without phones. Sometimes it’s the call you make instead of the text.
The point is—it doesn’t take hours. It doesn’t take elaborate plans. It just takes you choosing to be present in the moments that feel small but actually matter most.
That day, what started as me just protecting a new truck turned into one of the best conversations I’ve had with my son all month. And I wouldn’t trade that five-minute walk for the closest parking spot in the world.
So maybe—just maybe—park a little farther away this week. See what happens. This might be a new habit of mine when I’m alone with my boys and hopefully they ask me one day why we parked so far.
