Sometimes, I pause to consider a moment.
I am lying in bed on a Sunday with no responsibilities to my name for the day; the rain makes music on my window pane. The window is open so my temperature is comfortable. I haven't moved from the position I was in since I woke. I am comfortably numb. The daylight seeps through the curtain basking my bedroom in an orange glow. My favourite song for the week repeats in my head. I couldn't say that in this moment I was completely happy but it was beautiful. I had nothing to complain about, nothing to do but lie and think of music.
A moment.
Sometimes they're more significant. I hitchhiked from Rugby to Southampton with two of my best friends for charity and the most beautiful thing I gained from my adventure was a warm heart, purely because I was astounded at the kindness of humans. The second was the phenomenal beauty of strangers. Every person I got into a car with was endlessly fascinating. I hungered for their little life anecdotes. I craved sustenance in the form of friendship through kindness.
Perhaps people were more willing to open up because of our silly fancy dress; maybe our charitable task helped others to see virtue. Maybe it was the sheer excitement that radiated from our wide eyes and smiling mouths, eager for adventure and with enthusiasm for the road. I aspired to be the modern day Jack Kerouac. “I just go along, I dig life” is what I whispered to myself each time a passer-by ignored our efforts to hitch a ride - ambitious and viciously hopeful. Each challenge satisfied our beating hearts.
The Ferris wheel caught me unguarded. At the top, I breathed in, idealistic and dizzy and truly satisfied with where the road had taken me. It was as though I had woken up from a broken heart - un-blinded and unbearably ecstatic. We had discovered a fairground in the middle of nowhere, a promise, a glass half-full. I’d collected a little glass half full of stories to tell. Moments
A baby is crying on the train. For a brief second I lock eyes with the stranger opposite me. The green eyes agree with me. We unite in mutual irritability. We reflect each other's body language. I feel like friendship is forming. It's a shame they got off the train before me.
I am sitting in my kitchen at uni with two of my flatmates giggling uncontrollably after one of them tried to eat his dinner off his plate without using his hands. Tomato sauce adorns his beard and I am laughing. We laugh together and we continue laughing at stupid things for most of the night. This was something that I didn't realise would be a memory until it was.
I like to notice moments, they make me feel as though life is worth living.
