Making the Most of the Time We Have

I’m in Costa Rica with my parents and husband right now. A few years ago, I realized spending quality time with my parents was a top priority. Liz and Ejlat are in their mid-70s. While my dad likes to point out that he is still crushing 40-year-olds on Strava and can beat me easily in an arm wrestle, we all sense time differently now.

I caught my mom, the least morning-person person, up at dawn watching the sunrise. I asked if she was tired. She shrugged it off, “I only have so many left to enjoy.” Her bluntness has only grown bolder with age.

Deadlines, especially the literal one of death, have a way of bringing into focus what really matters.

So much so, that I regularly ask myself what I would do if I had one year left to live. This question is like a tuning-fork for my life. It doesn’t dictate it, but it clues me into anything that’s out of alignment.

In my 20s, I asked myself this question for the first time on the way to work. The answer: travel the world. It took me 8 months to fathom listening to that answer, but I did, and it changed the course of my being. In my 30s, enjoying time with loved ones, especially my parents, is what came up.

The sweetness of this trip has been overwhelming to my heart. I well up seeing them sit together on the porch taking in the view for hours each day. I am full of gratitude as we eat dinner together each night, conversation ebbing between playful and pointed.

Last night we began the ritual of looking for scorpions in the grass before laying on it to star gaze. My mom purposefully flicked her flashlight into my eye, temporarily blinding me. I ratted her out to my dad. She denied it for a moment, then confessed with glee. Mischievous and loving. I savor it all.

Our last day is today. Gab and I are working on the porch. My mom came over and patted us on the back, “I have work too, but I’m not doing it.” Then gave us a squeeze and declared, “It was a nice vacation.”

What would you do if you had one year left to live?