The Last Time
There have been moments in my life where I did something for the last time without realizing I’d never do it again.
Some I am glad to look back on and be done with (like the last time I changed a diaper).
Some, not so much - like the last time I took a nap with my children when they were young.
Sometimes I know a thing is ending and I immerse myself in the sensation - fully aware it will soon be a memory.
But often I don't know - can’t know - that the end is in sight.
I think about this a lot.
Because the only part I have control over is how I show up to the things I do. So I try to act as if it may never happen again.
I try to see it all, feel it all, smell it all. Immerse myself. Take it in deeply - let it fill my lungs, my heart, my eyes, my ears, my head.
I won’t remember all of it. Probably, given the sieve that I call my brain, I won’t remember most of it.
But I’ll know I paid attention. That I was alive to it in the moment.