One Less Summer

The perspective shift that convinced me to stop waiting for someday and start making memories now

“When we realize each day is not one more day but one less, then we can start giving value to what truly matters.”

I don’t remember where I first heard that quote.

I just remember stopping.

Because most of us live as though life comes with unlimited refills.

We assume there will always be another chance.

Another summer.

Another phone call.

Another dinner.

Another road trip.

Another “I love you.”

Someday becomes our favorite day of the week.

Someday I’ll call that old friend.

Someday I’ll take the trip.

Someday I’ll slow down.

Someday I’ll reconnect.

But what if we’ve been thinking about time all wrong?

What if today isn’t one more day?

What if it’s one less?

One less summer.

One less family reunion.

One less chance to sit on a porch and solve absolutely none of the world’s problems while talking for three hours.

One less ordinary Tuesday with the people we love.

That perspective can sound depressing at first.

I don’t think it is.

I think it’s clarifying.

Because when you realize your days are finite, you start asking better questions.

What actually matters?

Who matters?

What am I waiting for?

This reframe is one of the reasons I decided to create what I’ve been calling The Summer of Phil.

After a busy school year, I realized something important: I didn’t need more stuff. I didn’t need another gadget, another project, or another thing to add to my already enthusiastic relationship with to-do lists.

I needed people.

So this summer, I’ve spent a lot of time reconnecting with family and old friends.

And yes, it has involved a lot of driving.

A lot.

Let’s just say my car and I are now in a very committed relationship.

There has been plenty of windshield time.

Gas station coffee.

Podcasts.

Audiobooks.

Questionable fast-food decisions.

More windshield time.

At one point I became so familiar with Interstate rest stops that I started rating them like restaurants.

Five stars. Excellent vending machine selection. Clean bathrooms. Would stop again.

More than once, while staring at another stretch of highway, I wondered if all of this driving was worth it.

And every single time, the answer has been yes.

Because on the other side of those miles were conversations that mattered.

Laughter that couldn’t happen over text.

Stories that only emerge when you’re sitting across from someone you care about.

Memories.

Lots and lots of memories.

When I look back on this summer years from now, I won’t remember how many hours I spent behind the wheel.

I’ll remember laughing so hard my sides hurt.

I’ll remember hugs.

I’ll remember stories that began with, “Remember when…?”

I’ll remember sitting around tables talking about nothing and everything.

I’ll remember feeling connected.

Researchers have found that when people are reminded that life is finite, they tend to prioritize relationships and meaningful experiences over possessions and status.

That makes sense to me.

Because when you begin seeing life as “one less day” instead of “one more day,” something shifts.

The petty stuff shrinks.

The important stuff grows.

You stop saving your good dishes.

You stop waiting for the perfect moment.

You call the friend.

You take the trip.

You hug your people a little longer.

You realize the special occasion isn’t someday.

The special occasion is today.

None of us knows how many ordinary summers we have left.

None of us knows how many chances remain to reconnect, reconcile, laugh, or simply be present with the people we love.

That’s why I’m trying to say yes a little more often.

Because today isn’t one more day.

It’s one less.

And that realization may be the very thing that teaches us how to truly live.

Phil’s Happiness Practice

Ask yourself this question:

“If I knew this was one of my last ordinary summers, who would I spend more time with?”

Then call them.

Don’t wait for someday.