The Small Moments That Stick With Us
In the opening pages of Jeremy Page's Sea Change, Guy is having a moment with his young daughter. He is showing her a small thing -- a drop of water on a leaf that catches the light and shimmers. To the four-year-old it's like magic, as are so many things that we adults take for granted, and Guy tells himself that this is a moment he'll remember always.
'See the sun in there?' he whispers. 'The whole world's in there if you look closely enough.' p. 5
As an adult, I remember the most random things from my childhood. Little moments that perhaps no one else remembers and I couldn't begin to tell you why I do, like the way the sun filtered through the trees in the woods behind our house. The moments could be a smell or a piece of music, but they are moments that stick with me for no logical reason. Nothing big happened to cause them to stick.
Sometimes, when I'm very lucky, I can identify them as an adult. I wonder if the fact that I mark these small moments as they happen is the reason why they stick. Again, they are not big moments. It could be a smile shared between friends or the sound of leaves crunching under my feet on walk in the woods. They are small beautiful moments that individually are not much but collectively form a mosaic of the beauties and small but important things in life.
What are the small moments that stick with you?