I keep forgetting they’re getting older. I still act like they’ll always be able to do everything.

I keep forgetting they’re getting older. I still act like they’ll always be able to do everything. 

Then I walk into their house and see the recycling bins already dragged out to the curb, the fridge stocked with groceries, the old lawn mower pushed back into the shed. And I realize… they did all that for me, before I even got here. They didn’t ask for help. Didn’t complain. Just kept doing what they’ve always done. And I almost let it slip past me, like it was nothing. That’s the version of me that stays blind until one day they can’t do it anymore, and I realize I never said a word. But this time, I catch it. I see the groceries lined up, the bins at the curb, the sweat still on their shirt from mowing the lawn. My chest feels heavy as I say, ‘Hey… thank you for still taking care of all this. I see it. And I don’t take it for granted.’ They smile, just a little, and wave me off like it’s nothing. But I can tell it landed. I use an app called ‘quiet effort.’ It keeps me from living the version of life where I only appreciate them once it’s too late.