Sparkling with morning freshness, drops of dew pick up rays as the sun peeks over my back fence. I’m struck by bold shots of light, and realize this is a fleeting beauty.
I think about how every moment — whether beautiful, ugly, horrifying, uplifting, or unnoticed — is fleeting. The sun behind a cloud takes the sparkle away.
I wonder where these moments fleet. Can a moment be more?
If it hits you just right, a moment can get into your mind and look around for something to grab onto. Or, it can whirl aimlessly in there until it turns into something that matters.
We all have them: moments of clarity that teach, moments that startle you and make you think, moments that will affect the rest of your life.
I keep mine in my head in a “photograph album” full of snapshots that matter.
• an inchworm on a picket fence
• a chameleon changing color
• a tear on my son’s cheek at his brother’s funeral
• an injured baby rabbit in my son’s hand as his eyes beg me to fix it
• the look of shock when my sick little boy finds me checking into a book called What to Do till the Doctor Comes
• watching a pig give birth on my grandfather’s farm
Sadly, I know some who look at me strangely when I talk about things like this. It just doesn’t make sense to them. All I know is that my whole life I have paid attention to things that move me. This is distracting when, for example, I turn my head towards a bird song or notice a whiff of fresh breeze while engaged in a conversation. I am paying attention; it just doesn’t look like it. It’s not multi-tasking; it’s storage.
I just don’t want to miss anything. Call it curiousity or imagination or restlessness. It’s where I find what feeds and guides me.
Writerly 