Years ago, during an accident that lasted only seconds, I experienced what felt like hours of thought—and came away knowing I had chosen to stay. Now, after hearing others describe near-death experiences and nonlinear time, I’m looking at that day differently and wondering what it may have taught me about consciousness, free will, purpose, and the possibilities we encounter along the way.

What matters is creating small moments that help you reconnect—after disagreements, during busy seasons, while you're apart, and through all the ordinary days in between.

Today marks 36 years of marriage and 41 years together. When people hear those numbers, they may imagine we’ve somehow figured out the secret to a lasting marriage. They may imagine we’ve always agreed, always understood each other, or somehow avoided the struggles that come with sharing a life for more than four decades. When I think about those years, what comes to mind isn’t a secret.

One day she admitted she had gotten lost driving home from the pet store. A trip that should have taken minutes turned into nearly two hours of driving around a town she had lived in for more than thirty years.

The last thing I wanted was for my mother to see me cry. I usually tried to hide my emotions because when I was upset, she often became upset too.

The days leading up to the funeral moved quickly, as if time had shifted into something both urgent and unreal.