I remember, as a child, having a fear that I would forget things that had happened in my life. I don’t know where that fear came from, but I vividly remember a real concern about not being able to bring the past with me, because I would eventually forget it. I wasn’t able to fully express or understand that fear, but I did my best to find a solution. I told my mom I wanted a journal to write these things down in so I wouldn’t forget them. She bought me a 4×6, multi-colored, spiral note pad. Decades have gone by. I can still feel the pages of that small notepad. I still see it’s bright, lined pages with my meager, scribbled attempts at chronicling my life. I still remember the fear that I was going to lose a part of my life as time carried me forward and away from today.
As I write this, on my 34th birthday, I’m sitting near the monument at the summit of Hecker Pass. Surrounded by soaring redwoods, the mountain air is still, and I prayed that I would treasure these days in my heart. These days of pure wonder and laughter with my sons. Days of unconditional love from my wife, love I don’t deserve but receive as grace. Days that, though filled with a justified strife in the valley below, still have quiet mountain tops to clear the mind.
Before heading down the mountain, I thought about how it’s impossible to ever get back time to use it again. We can’t relive the past, or make up for wasted time. Yet, if I treasure the time I have, and spend it wisely, I am purchasing moments, days, and years that I get to keep. So I will treasure up these days, and nothing will be lost, even as time moves onward.