You usually don’t know when it’s the last time.
Growing up, we had a crew in the neighborhood.
We’d play basketball until it got dark. Kick the can. Or just run around with no plan.
Every night felt the same.
Just another night.
And then one day… it stopped.
No announcement. No final game. No “this is it.”
Kids moved away. Some drifted into different friend groups. Life just changed.
And without realizing it, we had already had our last night as that neighborhood crew.
I didn’t think about it much at the time.
But now I do.
Because it happened again. Kind of…
For a while, I had this idea.
“I’m going to take one day a week off and just spend it with my kids.”
Sounded simple. I could control my schedule. I could make it happen.
I kept thinking about it. Planning it.
Then one day it hit me.
I missed it.
My kids weren’t home on Fridays anymore. They were in school. They had their own lives. Their own routines. That version of the opportunity… was gone.
Just like those nights in the neighborhood.
Some moments don’t feel important until you realize you can’t get them back.
So now, I don’t wait.
