Alvin M. Williams

Christmas Eve. My kids are home. Not "kids" anymore. They're adults with their own lives, their own apartments, their own problems I can't fix. But for the next few weeks, they're here. Arguing about what movie to watch. Raiding the fridge. Taking over the living room like they never left. And I'm trying to soak in every second of it. Because I know this doesn't last forever. Eventually they'll pack up and head back to their lives. The house will get quiet again. But right now, tonight, I get to be their dad in the same house where I taught them to ride bikes and helped with homework and worried if I was doing any of it right. Here's what I've learned after years of helping people plan their retirement: You can't get this back. You can recover from a bad investment. You can adjust your withdrawal rate. You can always make more money. But you can't get back the Christmas Eve when your kids came home. So tonight, I'm not checking my phone. I'm not thinking about work. I'm just here. With my kids. Under my roof. For a few more weeks. Merry Christmas Eve. Whatever you're doing tonight, be all the way there.