On Saturday, a woman walked into the Mall at Millenia to do a little shopping. It was Halloween, so she was probably thinking about candy or parking or how the stores already had Christmas decorations up. Then a huge metal star, one of those holiday decorations hanging from the ceiling, came crashing down and struck her. Paramedics rushed her to the hospital. I don’t know her condition as I write this, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her or her family. I’ve been praying for them since I heard.

Nobody’s life comes with a sticker. Boxes get one. FRAGILE in big red letters, sometimes with a little cartoon of a cracked wine glass in case the delivery guy can’t read. He can read. He’s just got a schedule. People get nothing. We walk around looking perfectly sturdy, and nobody treats us like we might break. Least of all ourselves. Meanwhile, we’ve bubble-wrapped just about everything else. Warning labels on coffee cups. Outrage over Rudolph. Trophies for last place. Foam corners on coffee tables. We’ve spent twenty years trying to protect kids from scraped knees and hurt feelings, and somehow we’ve lost sight of just how fragile life itself really is.

I learned that lesson in a few minutes, on an ordinary morning that started with a kiss on the cheek and a bowl of Cheerios. By that afternoon there were paramedics in my house and a kind of quiet I can still hear sixteen years later.

Aaron never made it to his second birthday. I’d give every year I’ve got left for one more “Papa, I’m not sleepy.” Doesn’t work that way. I’ve asked.

Remember your grandmother’s china cabinet? The good plates, the gold-rimmed ones nobody was allowed to eat off because they were for company. Forty years sitting behind glass, waiting for an occasion important enough to justify using them.Then one day the whole cabinet gets emptied, the plates get wrapped in newspaper and packed into boxes (with FRAGILE stickers, naturally), and somebody says, “She never even used them.”

I sometimes wonder how much of our lives we spend doing the same thing with people.

We hold on to things we should have said years ago. “I’m proud of you.” “I’m sorry, I was wrong.” “I love you.” We save them for the right occasion, for when things settle down, for when the relationship gets easier. As though there’s some guarantee we’ll get another chance. There isn’t. I’ve read the fine print.

And fragile doesn’t mean weak. A newborn is fragile. So is a teenager the morning after a bad text. So is a grown man who looks like he’s got everything under control but is barely holding things together.

Most of us are carrying something nobody else can see. I think about that a lot. Especially when I’m impatient with someone, when the boys are driving me crazy, or when I’m so wrapped up in work and responsibilities that I forget to appreciate what’s right in front of me.

I still struggle with it. Knowing how quickly life can change doesn’t magically make you better at living it. I still get frustrated over ridiculous things. I still waste time worrying about problems that probably won’t matter next week. I still catch myself putting off things that matter far more.

And God, I still don’t understand why some people get ninety years, and others get nineteen months. I’ve asked that question more times than I care to remember. These days I don’t ask it quite as often. Not because I’ve found an answer, but because I’ve learned that some questions may never have one, at least not in this life.

Tonight I’m grateful for the two boys asleep down the hall. I’m grateful for the one I carry differently now. I am still his father. He still matters. He always will.

And I’m thinking about that woman at the mall and her family. I hope she recovers. I hope they get to bring her home. Because I know what it’s like when an ordinary day becomes the day your life changes forever.

So call your significant other, dad, your mom, your kids, your friends that you consider family. Today, not when things calm down, because things never really calm down. Say the thing you’ve been sitting on. Tell someone you’re proud of them. Apologize when you’re wrong, even when it hurts your pride. Hug your kids a little too long and let them roll their eyes at you. Be patient with the cashier. You have no idea what kind of day they’ve had.

And for heaven’s sake, stop saving everything good for some special occasion.

Use the good plates.

By Shaun Sima
https://chef-pocket.com/aboutme