Investing

Something a little bit sad happened this week. My cute "little sister" from Big Brothers, Big Sisters has hit an age where she'd like to spend more time with friends. So, after four years together, we decided it was time to end the match. What sounds small really wasn't to me—I was crushed. Watching her grow up to be what she is (someone resilient and surprisingly wise, both considering her age and circumstance) has been one of the most significant experiences of my life. Her brightness, strength, and her needs brought out a sense of nurturing and loyalty in me. Even this week, as I applauded for her at the end of her school play, I felt a mother-like pride (evident in my Disney-sized tears).

The truth is, ending my special match with her opened up wounds of other relationships that have ended, some recent, some not. And for a brief moment last night, I broke down at the thought of filling yet another impossible-to-fill hole. Feeling that deep ache of relationships lost—romantic, familial, and friendly—made me question why I invest in them at all when there's no guarantee. And yet, despite the risk, I always seem to play another hand. I keep investing; I keep believing.

As I laid in bed this morning, a nice-sized snowstorm attaching itself to my bedroom window, I decided something with myself. No matter the loss I feel when something ends, for whatever reason, I have to learn to love moments in my life not for how long they last, but for what they meant while they lasted. Because, truly, not every experience needs to last a lifetime in order to be a significant part of life.