How to Make the Most of Our Time with the People We Love

“Enjoy the little things in life, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things.” ~Robert Brault

With only a few more more months until my son leaves for college, I am a mindfulness teacher wrestling with my own heart and mind.

While avoiding the frequent mom conversations about “empty nesting,” I’m struggling to admit that my last child leaving home may be harder than I thought. Ironic, since working skillfully with difficult emotions is exactly what I teach.

Every school event I attend feels like a heavy, steady march toward graduation day. Yesterday in the high school gym, I was sandwiched between two other senior moms bawling their eyes out. Their minds and emotions were far in the future, already experiencing that final goodbye hug on college move-in day.

While I was feeling some of the same emotions, that experience gave me a clear insight: I don’t want to miss the time I have left with my high school senior because I’m living my life as if he’s already gone. Then, a poem by Bashō flashed in my mind:

Even in Kyoto
hearing the cuckoo’s cry
I long for Kyoto

You know when a poem perfectly crystallizes an emotion you’re feeling? This one nails it. The feeling of being in the presence of something tremendously special and beautiful while holding it so tightly that you’re missing it before it’s gone. The more I explore it, the stronger it gets; an eerie feeling of longing for something while still enjoying it.

My less poetic version might be:

Only four months left
Laughter coming from his room
My heart aches already

I considered asking for a weekly “mother/son date” for the rest of the school year, but I know better. His senior year should be focused on his own priorities, not my emotional needs as a parent.

So, while he’s out enjoying his senior year, what can I do to get the most out of MY remaining time with him so I don’t have regrets of my own?

Then it came to me. Savoring.

It dawns on me that I already have the perfect tool for this situation. The mindfulness practice of savoring. We normally think of savoring as it relates to food, like consciously enjoying a bite of high-quality chocolate. With mindfulness, you can savor anything. A sunset, the scent of a flower—even a person.

Remembering this gives me an idea of how to get the most out of my time with him, rather than missing it thanks to an anxious mind living full-time in the future.

Previously, I’ve used the practice of savoring to increase the intensity and appreciation of positive experiences and emotions, and it worked. So, why not now? It also feels right because it’s a “stealth” mindfulness practice, something I can do without him even knowing I’m doing it.

Now, I’m eager to begin applying what I teach, and being more present for this important relationship in my life. I start off using a popular mindfulness practice known by the acronym “S.T.O.P.”

When savoring a person’s presence: I Stop, Take an intentional deeper breath, Observe the moment using my five senses, and Proceed with awareness.

The “secret sauce” is the Observe stage, which involves leaning into my five senses: seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, and feeling/sensing.

Now, instead of multi-tasking while we’re in the kitchen together, I pay close attention to information coming in through my five senses. I also try to practice high-quality listening. This kind of listening differs from normal conversation where we are half-listening and half-thinking about what we’re about to say back. Here, I’m simply trying to listen with my whole heart.

The interaction wraps up with the last stage: Proceed with awareness. I bask in the warm feeling I get from being with him and let it imprint on my heart. The mindfulness soon wears off, and that’s okay. I know I’m not always aiming for this kind of heightened state of awareness.

I let out a big exhale now that I’m less anxious about the next four months. Auto-pilot interactions are replaced with a sense of calm and connection. Each day, I pick at least one interaction where I make a focused effort to savor his presence and appreciate the richness of our simple everyday moments together.

This afternoon, the smell of steak on a cast iron skillet draws me into the kitchen. I give full attention to the new baritone voice as he speaks, closely admire the way he peels the garlic like a trained chef, and smile at a ray of sun hitting the strands of gold in his hair.