Last Monday was a challenging day. I completely overlooked that my son, Leo, had hockey practice scheduled for the holiday. In a rush, I had to reschedule my mother’s planned dinner visit to the late afternoon. We ended up running late for hockey, and my mood was snappy and frazzled. By the time I managed to get Leo into the car, partially dressed in his hockey gear, and headed out through the light snowfall to pick up his teammate, I felt on the verge of tears.
It’s remarkable how quickly things can change, isn’t it? Just the night before, we had celebrated Leo’s birthday in a wonderful way: a meal at his favorite restaurant, a homemade triple chocolate cake (which required a trip to three different stores for ingredients), and presents. Sitting at our dining room table, I had watched my family’s faces glow in the candlelight, feeling calm and thankful. My boy was now eight.
Yet here I was, standing outside the hockey rink, fighting back tears. The cold air bit at me, and in my haste, I hadn’t thought to bring a hat or gloves. I shoved my hands deep into my coat pockets and leaned my forehead against the chilly plexiglass barrier between me and the rink. Watching Leo skate, I felt my heart race and a weight settle in my chest: I am trying to juggle so much, and as a result, I’m not doing anything well. I am just so exhausted.
Taking a shaky breath, I tried to manage the rising tide of frustration within me. Suddenly, a line from a Billy Joel song echoed in my mind: “This is the time to remember, ’cause it will not last forever.” I shook my head, feeling a mix of shame and irritation. I was reminded of my deep desire to be present in every moment, yet I was burdened by the expectation that I should succeed at this all the time. Am I letting my persistent sense of inadequacy interfere with my ability to truly be present?
I’m unsure. I don’t think so, as I recognize that I was far less engaged before I began reflecting on this issue. However, it does make me acutely aware of all the moments I fall short in seeking the connection I desperately crave.
Looking at Leo, his small figure blurred by my tears, I wished to fully embrace these fleeting years, to be attentive and savor every moment. Yet, time and again, I find myself failing. I let my own fatigue and irritability overshadow the beauty of this ordinary, imperfect life. It pains me to think of what I have already overlooked. I hesitate to even blink for fear of missing yet another precious moment.
That night, all I could think about were the lyrics: “These are the days to hold onto, ’cause we won’t although we’ll want to.”
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In summary, the struggle to be present while managing life’s demands is a common experience. While the fear of missing out may momentarily cloud our ability to enjoy the moment, recognizing and confronting these emotions can lead to deeper engagement in our lives.