While We Still Have It

Health… That quiet companion that carries us through the day.

It asks for nothing no attention, no applause.

It simply serves. With breath, with steps, with heartbeats.

And we often notice it only when it breaks. When it falters. When we can no longer rise without pain. And suddenly we understand: The body is not something we own it is a home.

The only one we truly live in from the moment we're born until our final breath. Gratitude often arrives too late. Just like it does for so many things in life. Like silence in the morning.

The smell of coffee while the world still sleeps.

A hand that hugs you without a word.

A glance full of understanding.

The words: “I’m here.”

Or even nothing.

Just presence. Little things, some would say. But they’re not little. They’re foundations. A kind word, spoken from the heart, carries more strength than many long speeches. It doesn’t fade, doesn’t disappear. It lingers, like the hug of a child or the laugh of someone you love. Like the day you realized you’re not alone. Why do we cling so tightly to the negative?

Why do the words that hurt echo for years,

while the words that heal vanish in days?

Maybe because we’ve stopped looking deeper.

Stopped listening. Stopped feeling. In a world where everything must be fast, flawless, and productive, we forget that simply being is enough.

That being here, now, with someone or with ourselves is sacred.

Time passes. People pass.

Those who once stood beside us are now only memories. And we never know when someone will speak our name for the last time.

Or when we’ll hold someone’s hand for the last time.

So pause. Breathe.

Look at the person beside you. Send a message to someone you miss.

Hug your mother. Or your father. Or your child. Or yourself. Thank your body for carrying you. Thank your heart for still beating despite it all. Thank life for what it gave you.

While you still have it.

Written by Antonio