We never know it's the last time...

In light of aging parents dealing with things that aging people do, the sudden passing of a beloved family member who happened to be 39 and in his prime, as well as overhearing a father lament about his 6 year-old no longer wanting to hold his hand, I've made a sudden (albeit obvious) conclusion. We don't ever know it's the last time until it doesn't happen again. I might not ever dance with my dad again. I will not ever hear Jon's voice again, this father will not hold his young daughter's hand again (perhaps until she's older). Do we celebrate the last time anything happens like we do the firsts? We don't, because we never know it's the last time until it's not.

I found this today and it hit my heart so hard. I love that my children are academically inclined, but moreover I love that we absolutely take pleasure in the small things, and what I consider to be the true meaning of life:

Make the Ordinary Come Alive

Do not ask your children
to strive for extraordinary lives.
Such striving may seem admirable,
but it is a way of foolishness.
Help them instead to find the wonder
and the marvel of an ordinary life.
Show them the joy of tasting
tomatoes, apples and pears.
Show them how to cry
when pets and people die.
Show them the infinite pleasure
in the touch of a hand.
And make the ordinary come alive for them.
The extraordinary will take care of itself.

​ Santana's top 10 list  ----->

Not one thing can be bought in a store that defines who she is and what she loves.

#ProudParentingMoment

xo,
k.

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