When today becomes tomorrow’s “good old days”

Notes from Alex

“Don’t you wish you knew you were living in the good old days before they were gone?”

That line stopped me in my tracks.

It didn’t just sound good—it felt true. Like something my soul already knew, but needed to hear out loud.

I found myself sitting with it, letting it settle in. Because the more I thought about it, the more I realized… we spend so much of our lives looking backward with affection and forward with anticipation, that we often miss the sacredness of right now.

I look around at the little village I grew up in, and my mind starts racing—not with worry, but with memory.

The 70’s and 80’s.

Those were the days of discovery.
Of freedom.
Of simplicity that we didn’t yet know was priceless.

Back then, life didn’t feel rushed. Time seemed to stretch wider, like the long summer days in Southeast Alaska where the sun just didn’t want to leave. We didn’t have much, but somehow we had everything.

We had imagination.
We had community.
We had each other.

I remember what it felt like to wake up with nothing but curiosity guiding the day. No screens. No noise. Just the pull of adventure—whether it was down by the water, in the trees, or just wandering without a plan.

And now, years later, those moments—so ordinary then—have become extraordinary in memory.

That’s the part that gets me.

We didn’t know.

We didn’t know we were building memories that would one day feel golden. We didn’t know that laughter, those simple conversations, the sound of boats in the distance, or the smell of the ocean air would become anchors for our hearts.

We were just living.

And maybe that’s the point.

Maybe the “good old days” aren’t something we lose—they’re something we fail to recognize while we’re in them.

Because here’s the truth that hit me hardest:

These… right now… are also the days.

The ones we’ll look back on someday.

The ones we’ll wish we could return to, even for just a moment.

The conversations we’re having.
The people still around us.
The places that still feel familiar.
Even the struggles—we may one day see them differently.

Time has a quiet way of turning the present into something sacred.

So what if we flipped the script?

What if we started living aware?

Aware that today matters.
Aware that this season—whatever it looks like—is not just something to get through, but something to experience.
Aware that the people in our lives right now won’t always be there in the same way.

What if we treated today like it was already a memory worth holding onto?

Because one day—it will be.

I think about that younger version of myself, running through those early years in the village. If I could go back and tell him anything, it wouldn’t be complicated.

I’d just say:

“Pay attention.
This is it.
These are the good old days.”

And maybe… just maybe… that’s what I’m learning to tell myself now.

Slow down.
Look around.
Take it in.

Because the beauty of life isn’t just in what was.

It’s in what is—before it quietly becomes what was.

— Alex