I increasingly suspect that one of the great errors of immature adulthood is believing that important things must feel important. Making my wife’s coffee before I make mine. Listening to my daughter describe something for ten minutes that could have taken twenty seconds. Hearing my wife play the piano, simple and untrained. Eating something ridiculous with unnecessary utensils. Walking slowly with an elderly family member because she can no longer walk any faster. These do not look very much like a life while they are happening. Later, one discovers they were most of it. ——— ——— The huge decisions of life do not add up to more than the thousand little things we touch and hold and experience every single day. 🦉