WHAT WOULD YOU GIVE FOR ONE MORE MOMENT?

-
What I would give for one more moment...

In the car with my parents and brothers listening to Genesis, Styx, Fleetwood Mac on a family vacation. My father at the wheel young and healthy, telling us jokes and my mother at ease by his side loving life, loving us and forever moving forward with her hand closed around mine.

Friday night dinner with my grandparents, at the table looking around at all of our faces and listening to our stories, laughing, smiling already having learned the art of treasuring every moment as if it is your last. 

The first time I fell in love without questioning that love, without feeling like I was falling but like I was floating, rising above everything to a place of wonderment and acceptance; a place that felt like no other.


                     
In the country walking, running with all of the dogs that have enriched my life, and shown me love in a way I would have otherwise never experienced. The precious time before their sudden exits; so awful, so painful, but that taught me if it can hurt that much to lose a dog, it is all the more reason to go and love another one.

To be back in high school hanging out with my friends who were also my family. Having no idea what life had in store for us, and knowing how to live in the moment even as the moments slipped by. 

There would be marriages and splits, children coming into the world, parents leaving the world and friends succumbing to illness, to stress and vanishing into thin air.

 Ringing the doorbell at my parents house (the house I grew up in), and being greeted by my Dad asking 20 questions, making hysterical remarks, comments and observations. Our Yorkshire Terrier, Casey, running up and down the hall, as if he had not seen me in 100 years  and my mom taking care of everything and everyone.

 To sit at that kitchen table, just one more time with both my parents sharing stories, laughing, crying, mending our souls. I would tell them everything I was afraid of, and how lost I have been, even though I have found a new path to follow. And reassuringly they would say, "Everything happens for a reason - you'll be okay" even if they were not sure I was going to be okay.

And while I think of each of these moments, I am in another that will surely pass. 

All of the moments of our lives eventually fall from the reel, onto the floor. We have to catch them mid air, and hold onto them for as long as we can, because once they land, the only way to replay them is by heart.

 What would be your moment?

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

LISA AUDREY COHEN - WRITING YOUR LIFE STORY

-
Image
    We all have events in our lives that imprint upon our memories. Some are happy, some are sad. We all have regrets of what was and what could have been. We all experience and surrender to love whether it is a lifetime commitment or a night of passion. Our memories are sparked by the scent of cooking, a song, a place we return to where we spent our childhood. While some of us walk a straight line (the job, the career, the partner, the kids, the house), others take detours. They travel the world, have various partners and live one day to the next.  The paths we take bring us to people and places where we settle, build a foundation and a LIFE THAT BECOMES OUR STORY. For over 20 years, I have been ghostwriting for those who want to share their life story. Whether in their twilight years or their prime, they all possess A SLICE OF BRILLIANCE.  Their life experiences are fascinating and through an intense interviewing process that takes sometimes a year or more, I am able to SCULPT AND SH
Read more

GROWING UP IN WENTWORTH PARK AND AT BLOSSOM POOL

-
Image
  I remember the sound of the ball coming in contact with the bat. The wood bats had a hallow kind of smack, while the aluminum had a ping. I remember the lamplights turning on, slowly, hesitantly flickering before reaching their full strength, the moths dancing in the warm spotlight. I grew up in a small white house, along with my two brothers, on a one-way street called Wentworth. The park was our backyard. It’s where we learned how to play basketball, baseball, hockey and how to look out for one another. Our parents worked several jobs to make ends meet. We lived a simple yet fulfilled life. We were kids with 3 baseball diamonds, two basketball courts, a shack to play “wall ball” against, a jogging path behind Diamond 2, a playground beyond that, and our very first school, Wentworth School across the street, beside yet another landmark, Blossom Pool. We had a neighbour who talked to the bus drivers, whose rest stop was in front of our house. His name was John “Babe” Learie. He also
Read more

FRIENDS

-
Image
 I’m 16, hopping fences, one backyard to the next. It’s Fall and the air is hinting that winter is on its way. It’s one of those nights when you can smell everyone’s dinner cooking. It’s dark out, earlier than the previous month and the kitchen lights are on. I can see entire families seated at the table, eating, talking, enjoying the end of another day together. I see single people alone, watching TV, eating slowly, stepping outside of themselves, wondering, when this became their nightly routine and how they ending up alone. I reach my house and enter the back door that we keep open because I am always losing or forgetting my keys. There are meals prepared for the week by my mother. My parents are both working, and my brothers are nowhere in sight. I warm up some chicken and rice and I am just about to chow down when the phone starts ringing, back in the day when everyone had a “land line” and if you were talking and someone else was trying to reach you, well they got a “busy” signal
Read more