The last day of school always feels like freedom. Years later it feels like the end of something you didn’t know you loved.

You cannot feel what something is worth while you are still inside it, complaining. The bells, the same hallway, the friends you saw without ever planning it, all of that reads as a constraint until it stops and the free time turns out emptier than advertised. Meaning tends to arrive late. That is not a reason to be grateful on command, only a reason to glance around occasionally while it is still happening.

Name one piece of your current ordinary week you would genuinely miss. Then be present in it once, without filming it and without rushing to the next thing.