The Old Baseball Cap Still Fits

Hold your plans lightly and your people close.

There's a faded Red Sox cap in the hall closet that I bought for a trip I never took. I kept it for years, annoyed at myself for wasting money. Last week, my nephew asked if he could have it—he needed something for baseball practice. Handing it over, I realized I'd been gripping that trip like it was supposed to mean something. But the moment his face lit up, I felt lighter. The people we love don't need our perfect itineraries; they need our presence and our willingness to let the small things go. Tonight, maybe that means saying yes to an unexpected dinner invitation instead of sticking to what you'd planned.