Sometimes the moments we almost decline become the memories we treasure most.
“Isn’t it funny how day by day nothing changes, but when you look back everything is different?”—C. S. Lewis
💌An Invitation I Almost Declined
As my husband and I drove to meet my daughter and her boyfriend for dinner, I could feel the dull headache just behind my eyes. My mind pinged through what I had already checked off on the administration’s end-of-the-year checklist. Tomorrow there would still be a few minor items to wrap up the school year and this year’s graduation. Saturday would still begin early with a long run, followed by household chores tucked in between loads of laundry. Ah, but I could look forward to putting my feet up Saturday evening!
“Do you mind if we come out Saturday? I was also thinking about bringing . . .”
My insides began to tighten. I am embarrassed to say that my first instinct was to protect my energy and say no because I was so dog-tired. My daughter is an educator too, and I knew she had to be exhausted. So if she was asking, it must really matter to her.
Sensing my hesitation—she knows me so well—she quickly offered a compromise.
“We can order pizza.”
This would reduce my efforts, she added.
Saying “yes” meant I would do some hosting prep, while still doing my usual Saturday routine. I would need to cut up fresh fruit and vegetables for hummus, toss a large green salad with more fresh toppings on the side, put together a few other snacks, and bake a homemade dessert. Surely I could manage that.
🏡The Business of Life
Once home from dinner, with Saturday’s plan fully established, I watched an episode of Downton Abbey. Mr. Carson observed, “The business of life is the acquisition of memories. In the end, that’s all there is.”
That line struck a nerve. I had been trying to protect my rest when life was offering an opportunity for a memory.
I looked over at our kitchen table. In the center of it sat a bouquet leftover from Mother’s Day, nearly two weeks earlier. Half of the flowers had already been tossed because they had faded and wilted. The rest looked as if they were hanging on to their last whisper of energy.
In my mind, I sifted through memories. How strange it is to realize that my mind is filled with decades of unorganized snapshots: names half-remembered, a hodgepodge of family, friends, and former students—small moments and not-so-small moments that outlived many so-called major events. Strange, isn’t it, that we eventually live inside what we remember?
John and I have spent years investing time in the earliest stages of the lives of young people. There are many faces we remember whose names elude us. There have been countless students over whom we have worried and fretted, those who surprised us in ways we never expected, and untold small classroom moments that by some miracle remain in our hearts today. Looking back, it is stunning to realize that we are often so busy arranging the bouquets of life without fully knowing which flowers will last.
At this stage of life, it is hard not to measure. Some people have accumulated wealth. Others have attained status, square footage, or other visible markers of success. There is nothing inherently wrong with any of that. Hard work is hard work.
But there is, perhaps, another type of good fortune: lunch dates with friends, graduation ceremonies, family gatherings, long conversations, children returning home, or even unexpected Saturday evening dinners.
🚚Future Memories
My daughter and her boyfriend will soon be moving to Boston. Time with them will then become a precious commodity. Her young adult life will continue to bloom somewhere else—hundreds of miles away. Saturday night dinners will not always be available. And if my lived experience has taught me anything, it is this: we do not always recognize future memories while we are still living them. Yet later, we will live inside what we remember.
On Saturday evening, plates were loaded and emptied. One story easily led to another. Laughter filled the rooms. We teased Maddie’s boyfriend far too much, but he was such a good sport about it. Our cat kept circling around our daughter, her boyfriend, and their friend—so happy “her girl” was home, if only for a short time.
No matter how tired we are, or how carefully we guard our energy, love has a way of interrupting us. And in the end, if we are lucky, we live inside that love.
Steph Simply 