THE PRESENT IS A GIFT
The present is a gift, that’s why we call it “the present”
With Thanksgiving coming up on Thursday, I can’t help but reflect on how quickly this year has flown by. It feels like just yesterday I was frolicking through the green fields of Ireland in July, or ringing in the New Year in Asheville with my family and friends. I’ve been 21 for a little over a month now, but before I know it I’ll be 22. Where did all the time go?
2025 is in about a month, 2019 was 6 years ago, and somewhere in between, we grew up. Somewhere in between we were lost, found, wandered, survived—but through it all, we kept moving forward. The world didn’t stop when I had my first heartbreak at 16. It didn’t stop when I was 17 and faced my first pandemic. And it didn’t stop when I survived a near-death car crash at 19 that reminded me just how strong I could be.
This past week, I’ve been thinking about one of my favorite sayings: The present is a gift–that’s why it's called “the present”. My grandparents would always say this to me after telling fun stories from their past because in their words, “The best way to honor the past is to live fully in the moment you have now—it’s how you make memories worth cherishing.” I try to live by that mantra whenever I’m out with friends or walking around campus, reminding myself that I’ll never experience these moments as a college student again. It’s a reminder to savor the time I have now.
Time has a way of moving us along, sometimes faster than we’d like. Time is relentless, moving forward no matter how much we might wish to pause or rewind. It’s tempting to dwell on the moments we wish had turned out differently or to hold onto dreams we haven’t yet achieved. I’ve spent far too much time chasing happiness in places it was never meant to be—in unfulfilled relationships with people, in unmet expectations, and in comparisons to others. But the truth is, every second spent yearning for the past or worrying about the future robs us of the joy in front of us. Time is a thief only if we let it be.
Sometimes, it feels like life is speeding past me, much like that late-night campus bus I missed—again. And speaking of buses, I’d like to thank the kind stranger who sprinted with me last week as we both dramatically waved our arms, only for the driver to shake his head and drive off anyway. Moments like these remind me that while time doesn’t stop for anyone, it does occasionally slow down just enough for me to laugh at the absurdity of it all. The world never stops for us to grieve, but it also never stops offering us new chances to heal, to laugh, and to love.
Time has a way of magnifying what truly matters and diminishing what doesn’t, yet I often catch myself getting tangled in the small things—moments when I feel overlooked or unimportant. These little grievances build up and demand more of my energy than they deserve. They trick me into thinking they hold significance, but in reality, they’re just another way I let the past and my insecurities steal my present.
I’ve realized that I spend so much time fixating on these things that it drains me of the joy I could be experiencing. When I think about the bigger picture—everything I’ve survived, everything I’ve achieved—how can I let a text I sent that’s been left on delivered for over 24 hours ruin my day? Letting go of these small frustrations is my way of reclaiming my time and my peace. The people who matter show up in ways that matter, even if not always on my timeline. The moments that matter unfold whether or not I try to control them.
We often overlook the present because we’re so busy wishing it were something else. The same can go for happiness. Happiness isn’t in the things we think will complete us—a job, a degree, a relationship. It’s in the way we choose to show up for ourselves every day. It’s in the small victories, the quiet moments, and the courage to dream of a better tomorrow.
Knowing what I know now at 21 and having been through what I’ve been through, I look back and wish I could give my younger self a hug, tell her she’s stronger than she thinks, and remind her that brighter days are always ahead. I think we all wish we could do that—because even through the chaos, we made it here. And that’s something to celebrate.
So, let this be a reminder: savor the awkward selfies with your friends, the sound of your grandparents laughing in the kitchen, and the way the fall air feels as you walk to class. Life isn’t made up of the grand milestones we spend so much time chasing; it’s built from the tiny, fleeting moments in between.
If time insists on marching forward, then let’s march with it—eyes open, hearts full, and ready to turn the everyday into something extraordinary. After all, time is one thing we can never get back, so make it count.
