Letters of Life

In the Moment

I found this draft of what I call a ‘mood piece’ written more than a year ago; words attempting the capture of an instant, words more about emotion and sentiment than about having anything important to say.

My gait is unsteady on the terracotta tiles as I walk, dripping, towards the open shower next to the baby pool. Unsteady because I’d climbed out of the water affer 12 laps in sets of 4, each set done in about 6 mins.

The sunlight was gently shining at nine o’clock and the air was tranquil and kind. I pressed the knob. A burst of water came forth in a warm embrace.

Standing there bathed in warmth, I turned and looked at my friends a stone’s throw away, milling by the edge of the Olympic-sized pool.

Flashes of dragonfly summers and of youth gone by, carefree days of physical agility and neverending energy and sunlight filled my mind’s eyes. For one scintillating moment, I found myself solidly and simply and fleetingly in the present.

Why wasn’t the ‘publish’ button ever hit? I thought the description of the moment too trivial, a trite attempt at sentimentalizing something as ordinary as pool training.

Obviously, I’ve changed my mind. I’ve realized such moments, ordinary as they appear, don’t come round as often as I think they do.

These are the small and lovely things. These are the sedimentary layers of memory, forming the shape of friendships deep below the surface of life.


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2 Responses »

  1. “Flashes of dragonfly summers…” made an immediate visual impact. I thought of two other authors – Hemingway writing about Nick’s adventures and the reflections on sleep by Proust. Yes, it’s kind of an exaggeration. You use much more economy with your words but the sensitivity still is there.

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