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I just finished re-watching The Office—again. It’s my go-to comfort show, my emotional support sitcom, my personal therapist who never judges me for watching the same episodes over and over. No matter what kind of mood I’m in, it’s there, like an old friend who somehow never gets tired of my company.

But that last episode? Oh boy. That one wrecks me every time.

I sat there, remote in hand, paralyzed by the weight of nostalgia, all thanks to a single line from the great philosopher of our time—Andy Bernard:

“I wish there was a way to know you’re in the good old days before you’ve actually left them.”

Oof. Right in the feelings.

Andy says this during the finale, when the whole office staff reunites after their documentary has aired. They’re reminiscing, laughing, feeling bittersweet about the time they spent together. Andy, now working at Cornell, realizes that the days he spent at Dunder Mifflin—annoying his coworkers with a cappella solos and questionable leadership skills—were actually some of the best days of his life.

This time, it truly struck me: We are all just bumbling through life, blissfully unaware that right now might be the very moment we’ll one day look back on with longing.

So naturally, I did what any emotionally stable person would do—I sat there in stunned silence, questioning everything.

Flashbacks & The Realization That Time Is a Scam

As my brain spiraled into a whirlwind of deep contemplation, I started revisiting my own “good old days.” The times I barely noticed when they were happening but now seem like absolute gold in hindsight.

Like that one late-night office session with two colleagues. We were exhausted, buried in work, surviving purely on caffeine and mutual delusion. But in between all that, we were laughing—really laughing—the kind of laughter that makes you forget time exists. In that moment, it felt like we’d be a trio forever.

But, spoiler alert: time said, “LOL, nope.”

One by one, life did what life does—people moved, changed jobs, drifted into new chapters. The moments that felt like they’d stretch into eternity are now years in the past.

It’s a weird realization. You don’t wake up one day and suddenly feel nostalgia settle in. It sneaks up on you—one random Tuesday, while watching The Office, no less—and suddenly you’re left wondering:

Did I even appreciate those moments while they were happening? Or was I too busy worrying about the next big thing to realize I was already living something incredible?

Why This Realization Is Equal Parts  Terrifying and Liberating

Here’s the truth: The future is uncertain. Maybe you’ll win the lottery. Maybe you’ll trip over absolutely nothing in front of a large crowd. Maybe both in the same week. Who knows?

But one thing is guaranteed: With each sweep of the clock’s hand, this very moment—right now—is slipping into the past, second by second, whether you acknowledge it or not.

Now, before you start panic-spiraling, take a deep breath. I’m not telling you this to trigger an existential meltdown (though, if it happens, just ride the wave). I’m telling you this because it means something beautiful:

Right now, you are in the good old days.

Not last year. Not five years ago. Now.

And that means you have a choice. You can either sleepwalk through your life, rushing from one task to the next, or you can wake up and start noticing the magic in the mundane.

How to Actually Soak in the Good Stuff Before It’s Gone

We spend so much time waiting for big life-changing moments—promotions, weddings, dream vacations—that we forget life is mostly made of small moments we ignore. If we understood that this is the real stuff, we’d probably:

• Savor our morning coffee instead of chugging it like a life-saving elixir.
• Actually listen to our partners instead of nodding while secretly scrolling through our phones, and observe them more attentively, cherishing the nuances of their smiles or the furrow of their brows in moments of confusion.
• Stand by a window during a rainstorm, appreciating the rhythm of the drops and contemplating the secret shelters of tiny insects.
• Take an extra second to really look at our pets—because, let’s be honest, they’ve probably been staring at us like we’re idiots for years.

These tiny moments? They’re the whole point. They’re what we’ll miss when we look back.

Final Thoughts Before Today Becomes Yesterday

Ever wonder why mystics, monks, and overly enthusiastic self-help gurus keep reminding us that the present moment is the only reality? At first, it sounds like something they say just to sound deep—kind of like when people say, “It’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey.” Okay, sure, but also, I’d really like to arrive at some point.

Yet, as much as we’d love to roll our eyes at these enlightened folks, they might actually be onto something.

Life doesn’t announce when you’re in the middle of something special. There’s no flashing sign that says, “Hey, pay attention! This is one of the best moments of your life!”

We rush through our days, convinced we’re heading toward some grand destination, but guess what? This is it. Right here. Right now. The laugh you just shared, the song playing in the background, the smell of fresh coffee, the sun on your face—this is your life happening.

So, I have one small request: Pause. Breathe. Notice.

Because tomorrow, today will be history. And one day, you’ll be glad you noticed.