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.