As the year winds down today, I plan to be scribbling about it in my journal. It’s been a ritual for decades, begun when my typical New Year’s Eve plans involved babysitting for the family down the block.

When I was younger, I would take these retrospectives quite seriously, composing a highlights reel of the year I’d just lived. I’m a little more jaunty about New Year’s Eve entries now, though I don’t know why I should be. Each year life becomes more precious.

I think it’s because I realize that the beating heart of a year is not to be found in a list of what happened and how I felt about it. What matters are the aha moments: Witnessing a spectacular sunset. Falling asleep to the gentle patter of rain on the roof. Glimpsing on an adult child’s face the exact same expression she’s had since birth.

These are the moments that matter. And today, I’ll be celebrating them.