Mottling

I came across a video the other day of a newborn baby. Her skin showed mottling, a word I had never really known before. At first I thought it was just something small, but when I looked deeper, I learned what it meant. Mottling is a sign that the body is preparing for the end. It is something that appears in the skin when circulation begins to fade. It is a quiet signal, almost like the body whispering its final goodbye. To see that on a baby broke something inside me. A child who had just entered the world was already carrying a reminder of how fragile life truly is. 

That image stayed with me. It made me realize how short our lives really are, how unpredictable every breath can be. We grow up thinking that life stretches on forever, that tomorrow is always waiting for us. But the truth is that tomorrow is not promised. Even the smallest and most innocent can face the reality of mortality. The mottling on that baby was more than a medical sign, it was a symbol. A reminder that life is not measured by how long it lasts but by how deeply it is lived. 

I could not stop thinking about it. I thought about the seasons. Summer never stays. Spring never stays. Winter never stays. Each one passes so that we can appreciate the next. If summer lasted forever, we would never long for the cool breeze of spring. If spring lasted forever, we would never be grateful for the warmth of summer. If winter lasted forever, we would never treasure the return of light. The beauty of the seasons is that they end, and that ending makes them valuable. Life is exactly the same. 

We often think that permanence is what makes something meaningful. But permanence dulls the edges. It makes us blind to beauty. What makes something truly beautiful is the fact that it does not last. The flower that blooms for a short time, the sunset that fades, the laughter that echoes and disappears. These things stay in our hearts because we know they are fleeting. That is why love is powerful, that is why moments matter, and that is why life itself is a gift. 

The baby in that video reminded me of this truth. She never spoke a word, yet she taught me something profound. We are not here forever. We cannot hold on to time. All we can do is live. We can choose to love deeper, to forgive faster, to notice the little details we often ignore. We can choose to see beauty even in the smallest things, because one day they will be gone. Mottling is a sign of an ending, but it is also a wake-up call for those who are still here. 

A thing is not beautiful because it lasts. It is beautiful because it does not. That truth hurts, but it also sets us free. It pushes us to hold on tighter to the people we love, to laugh louder in the moments we are given, and to be grateful for the simple fact that we are alive right now. This very moment, the one you are in as you read this, will never come back again. And that is why it matters. 

So appreciate everything. Appreciate the smiles, the silences, the heartbreaks, and the healings. Appreciate the people who stand beside you and even the ones who leave. Appreciate the seasons of your life, because each one brings its own kind of beauty. We do not get to choose how long we stay, but we do get to choose how deeply we live.

That is what the baby taught me. That is what mottling taught me. Life is fragile, and that is why it is beautiful.