It’s called transcendence. They are moments as thin as a razor’s edge.
The first time I tasted a French croissant in Paris, my legs went weak and I had to lean against a wall to finish it off because I was so overwhelmed by the taste. It was like all the first kisses of the universe wrapped under gold foil. Once someone I loved ran his finger along my collarbone and it burned like fire. The night before I left London, England I sat on an ancient bridge with my arms wrapped around my umbrella and watched the stars reflect on the Thames river. They seemed like fireworks because my tears blended the light and water like a watercolor painting. I’ve awakened to find my toddler’s face close to mine and the morning light highlighting his innocence and sleep so perfectly that I never wanted the moment to end. I remember one particular favorite moment when I had finished doing a show as a skater and as I was driving away from the venue, I had the distinct feeling that if I turned left my life would go one way (toward a relationship) and if I turned right, my life would go another direction (to college), and I got to choose. I paused at the stop-sign and in the beauty of that gift from God and got to ask myself what I really wanted. I turned left and I have been with that decision every day since for the last twenty-four years.
I don’t seem to put much importance on the small tasks of my life, but if I could string my favorite moments together over the last (over) forty-four years, I think I would see that my inner life was more magical than anything I could have dreamed of when I was young. My inner and outer lives run on parallel tracks, both with different destinations. When they do happen to cross, the moment hangs in the air like a round ripe peach on a tree. I get to pick it and put it in my scrap book. I can say, “It’s been a beautiful life.”
Remember, they are called moments because they do not last very long, but the small silent moments are the true story of my life.
