Last night, my mother and I were having dinner together.
And when my mother and I have dinner together, we have a ritual of sorts.
Right before evening kicks in, we’ll go to the grocery store, get foods to go, then head up to the park to watch the sun set over the harbor.
What’re you up to for the rest of the evening? I asked as daylight began to drop towards the horizon.
I want to figure out a couple things with my online calendar, she said. I’ll probably do some more work. And I need to go to the grocery store to get food for lunch.
But we were just at the grocery store! Why didn’t you get it then? I demanded. I have no stomach for time inefficiency.
My mother looked at me and said with rock-solid clarity, Because I didn’t want to miss the sunset.
Which was when I understood that she hadn’t spent her time inefficiently. She had spent it on her priorities. The sunset happens one time. Groceries can be bought anytime.
Good call, I said. And then we watched as that huge hunk of fire dropped below the horizon.