This week may get a little deep, but ’tis the season of reflection.

A few weeks ago, I decided to take a quick 24-hour trip to Annapolis, Maryland, to visit friends — and boldly insert myself into their annual neighborhood oyster fest. I think I consumed enough oysters to last the next 12 months. Everything about the trip was amazing: reconnecting with friends I’ve known since my Youngstown State University days, meeting new people, and, of course, partaking in the ritual of shucking and devouring oysters fresh from the bay.

But it was on the drive home that something deeper began to surface.

As I headed down the turnpike — at the legal speed, of course — I realized how challenging it was to adjust from highway driving to suburban streets, and then again to city roads. I had to intentionally slow myself down. While the pull to get home was strong, I knew if I didn’t ease my speed, I could easily miss something important: a stop sign, a construction detour (which seems to be an inevitable part of life around here lately), or even a cyclist or pedestrian sharing the road.

No longer could I barrel down the open highway, bobbing and weaving through traffic while still managing to admire the changing colors of the leaves.

That’s when it hit me — how often I live my life on that same kind of freeway. Moving fast, taking things in but rarely pausing long enough to really notice. I often measure success by how much I accomplish, how efficiently I can check things off the list, how far I can get before needing to rest. But what I forget, in my rush, is that slowing down doesn’t mean losing momentum. It means making space to notice what’s happening around — and within — me.

So this season, I’m committing to a new kind of pace. One that’s more intentional, not reactionary.

Between now and the New Year, I’m choosing to notice the children’s smiles as they look at the lights instead of just admiring how beautiful the decorations turned out. I’ll take in the hugs when family walks through the door, truly feeling the warmth of those moments instead of mentally running through my to-do list for dinner. Maybe I’ll even make a batch of cookies from scratch — flour everywhere, imperfectly cut shapes and all — instead of grabbing the premade dough from the freezer aisle.

Because slowing down doesn’t mean stopping. It means being present for the journey. It’s about understanding that the process — the laughter in the kitchen, the long conversations over coffee, the quiet drive home after a full day — isn’t just part of life. It is life.

The truth is, we only get this one trip around the sun each year, and it’s up to us how fast we drive it. The highway will always be there when it’s time to move, but maybe, just maybe, we’re meant to take the scenic route more often.

So as we approach the holidays and the close of another year, I invite you to slow down with me. Take the extra minute. Look around. Let yourself be fully in it — the laughter, the chaos, the imperfect beauty of it all.

Because that’s the real journey. That’s everything.

Mother, author, entrepreneur and founder of Dandelion-Inc, Lisa Resnick wants to hear your story. Share memories with her by emailing lisa@dandelion-inc.com