As we move into another winter, let’s take a moment to imagine the summer that lies 6 – 7 months away. With its long days and open horizons, summer has a way of reminding us that time is fleeting and precious. Yet, if you pause to count, you might realize there are only 18 summers you truly get with your children. Eighteen opportunities to marvel at their growth, to create traditions, and to leave them with memories that outlast childhood.

And while we often don’t think of it this way, the same holds true on the other side. Growing up, most of us only get 18 summer with our parents. Eighteen summers to laugh, reminisce, and express gratitude. Eighteen chances to weave a shared story before life pulls us in different directions.

The number is both simple and sobering. Summers aren’t infinite, and they don’t wait for us to slow down. This realization is less about provoking guilt and more about issuing a challenge: what will you do with these summers?

The answer doesn’t require perfection or extravagance. Hanging a “massive memory” on each summer doesn’t mean scaling mountains or boarding international flights. Some of the most vivid moments come from the simplest traditions – a favorite recipe cooked together, a shared walk to the ice cream shop, or an impromptu stargazing night. Summers, after all, are the canvas. The moments we choose to paint on them, bold or subtle, are what linger.

Psychologists often talk about the “peak-end rule,” the idea that we remember experiences based on their emotional highs and how they conclude. Summers, with their natural rhythm of beginnings and closings, are perfect opportunities to create those highs. A summer filled with small, intentional joys becomes a marker in the story of our relationships, a thread we can trace back as years unfold.

But here’s the challenge: modern life is relentless. Between deadlines, schedules, and the ever-present hum of technology, it’s easy to let summers pass without notice. That’s why intentionality matters so much. It’s about stepping out of autopilot and asking, What would this summer mean to us in ten years? It’s not about creating Instagram-worthy moments but about aligning your time with your values.

The “18 summers” framework is a powerful lens for approaching this. Much like investing in a business or leading a team, this mindset encourages you to think about returns – not in profits but in memories. What legacy are you building with your time? What connections are you deepening?

This requires three things: intentionality, vision, and humility. Intentionality is the conscious choice to prioritize connection despite the distractions. Vision is the awareness that these 18 summers are finite and deserve care. Humility is the recognition that not every plan will be perfect – and that’s okay. What matters is showing up and giving your presence to the people who matter most.

This framework isn’t limited to family. It applies to friendships, communities, and even the relationship you have with yourself. How often do we miss chances for connection, assuming there will always be another summer, another chance? The truth is, relationships thrive not because time is endless but because we choose to honor the time we have.

If you’re fortunate enough to still have most of those 18 summers ahead, take stock. Ask yourself what memory you want to create next summer – not in some far-off dream, but in the one you can already start imagining this winter. If those summers have largely passed, look back with gratitude. Let those memories remind you of what you value most and inspire you to bring that same energy to other areas of your life.

As a season, summer is a gift, a chance to step outside the ordinary and anchor ourselves in what truly matters. Winter, with its quiet rhythms, is the perfect time to reflect and plan. What would a memory worth cherishing look like for you and your loved ones?

It doesn’t have to be loud. It doesn’t have to be grand. It just has to matter.

In the end, time will pass regardless. Summers will come and go. The only question is whether we’ll let them slip by unnoticed or use them as moments to pause, connect, and build something lasting. So, as another winter begins, let’s imagine the summer that awaits and ask ourselves what story we want to tell on the other side of it.