Going past the huge flowers on my way out the door this morning, I sniffed their perfume along with a hint of rain in the air. I took a long look at the Tree Peony blooms, knowing it would likely be farewell until next spring.
I don't always know these 'last times'... sometimes I get a sense, and I linger a bit longer in the moment, maybe to savour the last swim at the beach at the end of the day, or the last sail of the season.
Other times it is only looking back, and realizing that was the "last time," that I tasted something, or saw this friend, or even said goodbye to a loved one.
Is knowing something is the "last time" a gift or a curse?
Aware that we are aware. Not in an existential way that puts a layer between you and the experience, but in a conscious way that brings you more into time.
And is the perfect moment when the flower is at its peak perfection, or is it when we appreciate how perfect everything is in the moment? Whether the flower is a bit wilted, and the petals have drooped, but you can still say to yourself, "how lovely, how perfectly lovely."
As the petals fall off the tree peony, the poppies are bursting open and the peony bush is not far behind. Life is full of these moments.