I’ve held my daughter a minute after she was born, I’ve held my father as he died in my arms.
I’ve laughed, cried, been scared, ecstatic, weak and strong.
I’ve regrets, pride, depth and lightness about things I’ve done and not done, about opportunities taken and missed, about the times I wished I said, ‘I love you’ and the times I’m so thankful I did.
I remember much and have forgotten more.
I remember a touch on my head from my father from when I was a child and the same touch he gave me two days before he died. In between I forgot it.
I remember a hug with a dear friend when he needed it. I forget his birthday.
I remember the first time I kissed my wife. I forget to buy her flowers.
Experience isn’t what you see on a screen, nor what you map, test or script.
Experience is life. It’s joy and pain, its sadness and hope, its yours and nobody else’s.