In light of my considering New Year’s celebrations and, inevitably, the Christmas immediately preceding it, the holidays of years gone by sprung to mind. I recall one of my happiest Christmases was my first one living in Ireland. My Mom and I moved over from New York in August, before Dad came over in December, after closing up shop on business. Of course, Mom and I missed him and his arrival really marked the start of the holiday season for us. I recall one gift I received that Christmas was a CD, which Dad brought back from the States, Rancid’s Life Won’t Wait—a title that didn’t mean much to me at the time; but has significant meaning for me now, as I discuss the notion of reflection in context.
That same year, I went off to college. I didn’t know it at the time, but when I left home, that would be the last time I lived there. Sure, I’d come back for holidays and the like; but it was never home again. Perhaps there was part of me—and if you’re in a similar position to myself in this context—a part of you, that always thought you’d move home after college and get on with life. Well, that’s not how life always works out, according to plans. After college, I stayed in my college town for 15 years. I fell in love, got married, had a kid. A lot has changed since I left home, so much so that I didn’t even notice it while it was happening.
Maybe it’s because I was so fixed on the next goal, whatever it might be, and how it might (or might not) lead to this notion of going home. One problem with this is that once we achieve a goal, we don’t stop and appreciate what we have. We move our focus to the next goal. Buy a car, get a better job, get married, buy a house, have kids. Happy now? No. There’s so much that needs to be done with the house. So much work that needs to be done during the week. And slowly, time slips away.
As is unfortunately natural, our family has had its share of bereavement over the past 20 years. We’ve lost loved ones we will never see again. We might say to ourselves, if only I had spent more time with them than focusing on things that may not really matter, in the grand scheme of things. An uncle referred to one of these bereavements as the end of an era. There’s certainly truth to this. There’s no going home anymore; at least, not in the way I ever thought of it when I was 18. It just wouldn’t be the same.
Please don’t consider this post a sob story of regret. It’s not. I’m happy, and that’s the point. The reflection I advocate for facilitates the ability to check in with life and prioritise. I make a point of reflecting like this regularly.
Regardless of how I conceptualise it, I am home. I am where I need to be. My baby is 4 now – no longer a baby at all. We have a 1-year-old boy as well. We are lucky. Part of my reflection is to ensure I don’t take that or my time with my family for granted, because, my goodness, how time flies.
Do yourself a favour and stop for a minute. Reflect on what’s important to you. Forget about your goals, those things you hope to accomplish in the future. Yeah, it’s good to have them; but I promise you, if you make those goals your primary focus, your thinking will have you chasing them until the day you die. That might speed things up as well, phenomenologically speaking. “I can’t wait until we get the kitchen renovated!” Then, one day, when the kitchen is finally done, you might realise you wished away all that time. Your kids have moved out and it’s only you and your spouse left with this big, new beautiful kitchen that feels kind of empty. Maybe, you might then start wishing that you had your toddlers back in the old kitchen. My daughter said to me the other day that she can’t wait to go to “big kids’ school.” “Don’t wish your life away, sweetie,” I responded.
Stop and reflect. What’s important to you, right now? Spouse? Kids? Family? Friends? Whatever it is, keep it in mind and think about it for a minute. Things won’t always be as they are now. Appreciate what you have. No matter how much things might not be going in your favour at the moment, no matter how much you think things need to be done; focus on the truly important stuff, while you can. Otherwise, before you know it, your loved ones from the generation before you will be gone and you’ll be turning grey. You’ll think about all the things you could have done and nostalgia will no longer be a feeling of comfort, but one of lament. I heard a great, relevant quote recently. “in 20 years, your co-workers won’t remember you working late, but your kids will.” Focus on what’s really important. Life won’t wait.