The Memory of Beauty

I’m obsessed with beautiful moments. And beautiful things. I’m trying to stockpile them. Plaster the walls of my goldfish bowl with the imagery, so that every time I forget, I’ll swim around and see them again. It’s everywhere. The intro to a song that you heard once long ago, in a moment that made you incredible happy, and even though that particular moment has been lost to time, the feeling still lingers, transported by the notes of a song. Rain droplets coalescing and running rivulets across the window as you drive home in the evening. A child running ahead of its mother on the sidewalk. An elderly couple holding hands. The fern on a well-poured latte.

I think about seminal moments a lot. Those moments where you think, ‘Yes. This is what life is about. This is exactly where I want to be right now.’ And they’re not always the ones you’d think. Sure some of the seminal moments in my life include a view of the Himalayas at nighttime, or swimming next to a whale shark, or surfing at sunset. But they also include other moments. A joke told by a friend in a cafe. I don’t remember the joke, but the moment was perfect. Crying at the end of a book that really moved me. Watching the stars, without worrying what they mean.

And then making a wish on a falling star.

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