As winter wraps its quiet arms around us, the year tiptoes toward its end, leaving behind a trail of days that now feel like whispers of time.
For many of us, this season brings a natural pause—a time to reflect on the year gone by, to sift through its joys and sorrows, its triumphs and regrets. But for those like me who have crossed milestone of 50, these reflections tend to stretch far beyond the boundaries of a single year. They carry us back through decades, unearthing memories we thought were safely tucked away.

We revisit moments that left a mark on our hearts—the ones that brought us unparalleled joy, where laughter danced freely and life felt perfect. But we also confront the weight of the harder times: the heartbreaks, the missteps, the chances we didn’t take. There’s an ache in wishing we could relive the happiest days or rewrite the painful ones. It’s a longing to hold onto what made us smile and to erase what made us weep.

This Sunday morning, I found myself caught in this tide of emotions, drawn into the swirl of my own reflections. At 51,the reality of life’s finiteness becomes unmistakable. Time feels both precious and fleeting, and there’s an urgency to live fully, to not waste another moment. And yet, with that urgency often comes anger—anger at the moments I let slip by, at the decisions I hesitated to make, and at the situations I couldn’t control.

But as I sat with these feelings, a quiet realization began to take root. The past, as I see it now, is colored by the lens of hindsight—a lens that often softens what was harsh or amplifies what was insignificant. Moments I once thought unbearable now seem almost trivial, and small, unnoticed gestures now carry a weight I never gave them in the moment. Memories, I’ve come to understand, are not always truthful—they’re stories shaped by time and perspective.

And no matter how much I wish it, the past cannot be rewritten. I cannot undo the pain, nor can I step back into the happiness as it once was. The only thing I truly have—the only thing any of us ever really have—is this moment.

As I write these words, the power of the present becomes clearer than ever. This moment, this breath, this fleeting now—it holds within it the ability to shape a future worth dreaming of and a past worth cherishing. The mantra is deceptively simple yet profoundly true: Be present.

This very moment is a gift—a blank canvas waiting for us to paint it with intention, gratitude, and love. Live it well, and it will become a memory you’ll treasure, a chapter you’ll revisit with warmth. It will weave a story that brings you peace when you look back and hope when you look ahead.

So, as this year fades into the next, let us hold this truth close: the power to make life meaningful lies in the moments we live fully. Let this moment count. Let it become the Present..the gift it’s meant to be.