7 July, 1998

Moments

Tired and bleary-eyed last night on my way home, I was carefully wrapped in layers of anonymity. I was being careful to show no emotion, to simply be yet another rider on the train. Then we went by the airport and the sun was setting in grand, glorious strokes of periwinkle and pink. My face melted from rock to sponge and I'm sure my delight reflected in my eyes.

I keep bundling myself up tight, and unwinding again when moments of beauty strike me. I just wish I was unwound more often than I was bundled, because those little moments are what life is all about.

This weekend, we were very lazy. On Sunday afternoon we were ensconced on the couch, watching movies and folding laundry. We took a time out to just sit there and I put my head in Sabs' lap and laid back looking up at the clear blue sky sweeping away endlessly outside the window. There were puffy clouds and a sweet breeze and the sound of wind in the leaves and birdsong. As he ran his hand through my hair I felt so safe and happy and just perfect that I didn't want time to go on. I had a sudden feeling that I could have died happy right then and there and I wouldn't have been afraid, as long as he was holding me.

Moments of beauty, of perfect clarity, of love and light and laughter.

When I got up yesterday, I went around the house, quietly putting things in order. I took my time about it, breathed steadily, didn't rush. I was very late for work, but I didn't let it bother me. For fifteen minutes I sat with Shara and watched her babies kick, little thumps of life against her striped fur. She lolled, head resting against the quilt, eye half-lidded as she watched the birds in the tree outside. I rested my palm against her warm side, felt the little paws kicking against my fingers and sighed happily.

Just a moment of me and my cat ... just life ... just perfect.

Today, I left the house still half-asleep. The train was packed with tourists, their children were screaming and I wasn't even really awake yet. Miserable, I popped on the ear-phones and turned the music up, sank into that anonymous stupor again. Heat and sunlight loud noises and too little space put me on the defensive.

But when I got to the office building, one of the cashier girls was sitting outside eating. Her cheeks were very rosy and she smiled and said hello.

And everyting felt right again.