Pondering the things that matter

I'm learning, slowly, that life doesn't always follow a set script, that sometimes it takes a path that's light years away from the one you originally envisioned.

We've been reconnecting with family this week, spending time with parents/grandparents and trying to remind ourselves why moments like this matter as much as they do. And the only answer I can come up with is this: Because it can all disappear in a blink.

Sometimes you have fair warning and sometimes you don't. Either way, there's no guarantee that the folks who ground you will be there tomorrow. So you linger over goodbyes and take pictures - real ones and mental ones - because you just don't know. Indeed, you never know.

Since this life thing is so ephemeral, I decided this week to get back to base principles. I swam with our kids and sat with my wife. I stretched out my walks with the dog and worked beside a quiet river. I convinced my son to ride shotgun with me when I got called in to do a bunch of interviews, and we ended up making indelible memories – for him and for me - along the way. Nothing earth shattering or headline-worthy. Just us, doing neat, unscripted things as life gave us the opportunity to do so.

Work got done late at night. And when my BlackBerry fried itself and my laptop decided to stop talking to the rest of the world, it took a bit of a break, too. Manyana, I said...life's too short to worry about things over which I have no control. And everything got fixed in the end. And the world continued to spin on its axis.

I have no idea what the future holds for anyone. But as my son and I drove home from the last interview (where the very kind producer allowed him to sit in the studio as I spoke live) and he picked up my camera and shot pictures of a brilliant evening sky, I realized there's nothing we can do about life's little cruelties, the realities of mortality and illness that often derail the most carefully laid plans. So we may as well make little moments like this happen as often and as vibrantly as we can.

I'm privileged to have had the chance to experience these moments with a rapidly growing teenager whose looks and overall sense of being are remarkably, almost frighteningly like mine. I'm privileged to have had the chance to swim with my youngest, to wave to him underwater for the umpteenth time that day, just because. I'm privileged to have sat with our daughter on the hallway floor as we tried to convince the dog to drink more water after coming in from a particularly hot and humid walk. It was the kind of week I wish I could have more of, and wish it didn't have to be so finite.

None of these moments will matter much to anyone outside our immediate family. But nothing could mean more to me. I guess I'll have to keep reminding myself to focus on the small stuff as my way of dealing with everything an unpredictable, sometimes mean-spirited world can throw out.

Your turn: Small moments. Big impact. Please discuss.