There's a version of her I won't see again

Impermanence: The Ordinary Moments That Become Lasts

Next time I see her, she won't be quite the same girl I hugged goodbye today. She'll have a few more life-changing experiences and grow in wisdom — which is exactly what I want for her. But it also means this morning was its own kind of last, too. The last time I'll see this particular version of her, before she blossoms into the next one.

This morning I dropped my 15 year old at the airport for a 5 month student exchange in Italy.

In the lead-up, we found ourselves counting "lasts" without meaning to — last beach walk of the year, last swim, last dinner together before she left. It made us slow right down and actually taste the small stuff, more than usual.

Nothing lasts forever. We're all in a constant state of change, whether we notice it or not.

This week in class: impermanence — the ordinary moments we don't yet know are lasts, and finding a way to hold them a little more gently.

Big love, Em x