You stab at the pieces of salad – a lettuce leaf, a scrap of beef bacon – and you tell me about the battles you have had with your students, their teachers, the parents, the whole circus. Everyone has sky-high expectations these days, everyone wants only the best results, but no one seems to want to put in the hours, the hard work. You are shaking your head even as I nod. I understand. I see. I get you.

You tell me about your recent trip back to your hometown for your reunion dinner, for precious time spent with your family. You tell me nothing is certain, that it can all change in an instant. That’s life, I said, that’s how it works. I consider and then I ask you, carefully mentioning that this is probably one of those clichéd questions folks ask when they have minds far too idle, what would you do if this was the last year of your life.

To be more specific, I tell you I don’t mean this to be what you would like to have achieved – this is not about successes. I don’t mean ticking off items from a bucket list either – forget bungee-jumping or backpacking in Peru. I mean to ask you, what would you do to satisfy yourself that, when you go, that this life of yours has been enough?

You raise your head from contemplating your salad and look me straight in the eye. You want to spend more time with people who matter, you say. People who matter to you. You don’t want to be remembered as the best singer in town or someone who made a lot of money; you want to have been a good friend and a good daughter. With the most important things in life, there are no battles. You know what matters.

And so we do, I say. We know what matters to us, we do.