Maybe the Best Memories Are the Ones We Never Planned

So I got to go home a few weeks ago, and there was a morning that I felt inspired to write about.

The Friday before Isa and I headed downtown to Toronto, I got to sit outside on the patio with Cliff with a cup of coffee. In front of us? Cornfields. The Sun. That’s about it. We didn’t have any activities planned for the morning as Isa had to work, so I joined Cliff out on the patio around 9:30 am. Coincidentally, I had both my iPhone & Apple Watch charging, which meant that nothing was vibrating on my wrist or pocket every few minutes trying to convince me that something else deserved my attention. At some point later, I looked at the time and realized we had been sitting there for almost 4 hours, as it was around 1:15 pm by the time I went in and checked my devices.

It didn’t feel like 4 hours at all; there were no awkward moments where we wondered what we should talk about next, or felt like we should pivot to doing something else. For the first time in a while, I had completely lost my awareness of the day moving around us. It’s honestly something that has now become a highlight of my trip despite its lack of anything exciting happening. I think that I’ve become accustomed to thinking that great memories have to have the most exciting itinerary and are created intentionally. Take travelling as an example; I want to make sure that we’re seeing all the cool things and eating at the hottest food spots. Even at home on a regular LA weekend, there are times that I wonder if we need to be doing something more exciting with it.

And listen, there’s nothing wrong with thinking like this either. Some of my favourite memories only exist because of the research I did and the plans I made. We had a ‘siblings’ day in Niagara Falls the same weekend that is also a major highlight of the trip and never would have happened if we hadn’t intentionally coordinated everyone and put it on the calendar weeks ahead of time. However, I do think there’s a difference between creating opportunities for memories and manufacturing the memories themselves. You can book the dinner, buy the concert ticket, or organize the trip. You cannot guarantee which five minutes everyone will talk about years later.

I’m realizing as I get older that sometimes it’s the thing you planned… but sometimes it’s what happened between the plans.

When Was the Last Time You Lost Track of Time?

I think the other part of that morning that really sticks with me is that I was completely unavailable to the rest of the world during that patio time, and that’s an unusual feeling. Normally, even when I’m talking to someone, there’s another layer of information from either my phone or watch that is trying to enter the conversation. Whether that’s a text that comes through, my watch vibrating, or a phone call that consistently buzzes. Sometimes it doesn’t even have to be an active notification, because it’ll just be something that comes to mind that I forgot to Google or something I felt like looking up as I speak about it in real time with someone else. No matter what it is, my yearning to grab and use my phone is almost always present with how I conduct my day-to-day. That morning, there was nothing competing for my attention.

It’s funny because I wasn’t intentionally trying to do a digital detox. It’s not like I had placed my phone into one of those lock pouches, or made an announcement that I was going offline. I simply wasn’t checking my phone, and without having my watch on, there wasn’t anything to remind me that notifications from a mobile device existed. The result? Almost 4 hours disappeared in a blink of an eye. It’s really made me wonder how often I actually allow that to happen anymore.

Things that typically absorbed us even require multiple screens nowadays. Look at how we watch TV as an example. It’s probably safe to say that most of us (me included) watch TV while looking at our phones. We have conversations with others while still checking our notifications. We go somewhere amazing, and think it’s so beautiful that instead of just appreciating the view, we have to take a photo. I’m not sure about you, but I sometimes have a weird feeling that if I’m not consuming, documenting, or replying to something on my phone, I’m potentially missing something. What a weird thing to have FOMO about. You know what I am missing by doing this?

Whatever is right in front of me.

I’m also not about to tell you I’ve had some epiphany and am going to throw my phone into the ocean because I like technology too much to ever consider that. The lesson here for all of us isn’t that technology is bad; it’s that the access that technology provides does not need to be unlimited. There’s something valuable about giving another person the experience of knowing they have our undivided attention. No screen on the table, no glances towards your wrist, no invisible audience waiting on us.

The Things We Remember Are Usually Smaller Than We Expect

My past few essays have centered around nostalgia and the danger of spending too much time chasing memories rather than creating new ones. This morning on the patio looking at cornfields made me realize something else: new memories usually don’t feel important while we’re making them.

Do you think I’d ever consider sitting outside drinking coffee a major life event? That doesn’t really fall under what I thought the definition of a core memory would be, but look at me now, writing about a simple morning whose importance to me only became obvious later as I reflected on my trip. I think that might be true for a lot of aspects of our life too. Places we miss were once just places we lived. Friends we remember years later were once someone we saw so frequently that we didn’t think about the possibility of not seeing them again. I could go on.

Ultimately, I think the most meaningful experiences don’t come and announce themselves in the moment. These things happen as we’re busy living. Listen, I still want to do all the planned trips, buy tickets for concerts, research the coolest restaurants, etc., etc. I do get a lot of joy out of planning and living through an itinerary. I’ve realized though, that I do want more time where nobody asks what comes next. More conversations where I forget to look at the clock. More time with people I truly care about, where being together IS the activity.

It’s funny, looking back at that Friday morning of staring at a cornfield with a cup of coffee, I don’t feel like any time was wasted despite not much happening. I actually wish we had more time.