You don’t remember most days. You remember firsts, lasts, and the people who were there for both.

Memory keeps edges. First day, first time driving, last game, last night in a house: beginnings and endings get stored while the enormous middle mostly does not, which is why a whole year can compress into four or five scenes. The common ingredient in the ones that stay is other people.

If you know a last is coming this year, a final match or a friend moving away, treat it as one while you are still inside it. Tell the people who matter that you want them there. Being present at somebody else’s first or last is how you end up in their few scenes.