Lately, I’ve been reflecting a lot on the idea of moments in life that are fleeting.
Moments that you cherish when you’re in them, but feel a pit in your stomach the minute you realize you’ll never have them back.
For example, a few weeks ago I took a walk with my dad through my grandparents’ house.
Only it was empty; all the furniture was gone. My grandparents had spent all summer trying to sell
their three-story Greek revival — a house complete with four bedrooms, two man-made ponds in the backyard and a kitchen with wooden cupboards.
I walked through the house one last time just to soak in all the memories that I had known my whole life.
As I walked, I imagined every object that used to be in its usual spot, year after year.
The bird feeder that was always the center of attention on summer days.
The fake flowers my grandma always had resting on the front hall table.
The tuna cans that my grandpa filled with fish food and placed on shelves in the basement.
The small bells that used to hang from a wooden mantel outside my grandparents’ bedroom.
I said goodbye to all the ghosts of everything. I knew I’d have to say goodbye to, someday.
As we go through life, we say goodbye to moments, people and places every day.
Then, we carry leftover emotions and nostalgia that keep us up at night.
It only recently dawned on me that all the physical places I hold in my heart aren’t truly gone.
They manifest in memories I can share with family; stories I tell in conversations and pictures I have in my collection.
All we can do is look forward to new memories, new moments and new experiences.
This idea translates to almost everything else in life: friends and jobs that come and go, chapters that are closed and new books opened.
It makes me think of the quote in the film “Forrest Gump” — “Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re gonna get.”
You never know what’s going to come next.
Now, my grandparents are living in a cute little apartment that’s less work for them and so much safer.
It’s only about a minute drive for my grandma to visit Gertrude Hawk for her weekly chocolate run.
In fact, after my first few visits to their new apartment, I think I already have a new tradition: my grandma and I stop at Gertrude Hawk and pick out chocolate together.
So if one door in your life closes, fear not.
Another one is sure to open.
With this mindset it’s easier to surrender to the universe and the “flow” of things.
For me, it’s like that box of Gertrude Hawk chocolates.