Moments

I wonder about them. Each day seems to be defined by moments of delight, sadness, anger, fear...

I believe it's time for me to let some moments pass away. I've been clinging to them for a long time. It's difficult not to dwell on them when one is constantly reminded. But too often I have allowed myself to be governed by such memories and I have lost opportunities to enjoy current moments.

Not long ago I would stop in my tracks to take in a sunset. I have not done that for awhile. I've tried--I've even tried to share a sunrise or sunset with people I love. They don't see what I see. And how can they? They draw upon their own moments as they watch their surroundings. 

When I was young I would sit from the moment color stained the sky until it became the brilliant blue of a new day, or faded to the quietly peaceful blackness of night. In moments of despair I would fantasize that I was a part of it, intensifying in color and light until I was swallowed up by a blue or black expanse, untouchable, achingly beautiful, but only visible for a moment.

My daughter asked me once why I love blue flax flowers. I told her I loved the color, and they smelled good, which is certainly true, but my penchant for identifying with things non-human extends to that intense love for the flowers. They grow in the most unlikely, unwelcoming places. They spring up without abundant water, their flexible stems bend in high winds while five fragile petals cling to the tiny stigma. They grow in clusters of intense blue with an occasional deviant bunch of clean white. They survive hailstorms, flash floods, unseasonal snow and frost. But if plucked for a vase, within minutes the petals have fallen and the beauty is destroyed. 

I am like that. Determined to live regardless of the ugly moments. Surviving storms sent by life, enduring the coldness of random loneliness. Bending to adapt and thrive. Exhibiting the natural colors of my species while admitting to occasional deviance from the norm. But I cannot survive being plucked from my stem, moving from the roots of the convictions which sustain me.

I have spent the past two years reliving moments I wish to release. In the process, I have gathered moments of sweetness and sustenance from people I love, from my surroundings, from God. And yet, I talk only of the moments I do not wish to keep, without acknowledging the joy of the moments filled with laughter, embraces, gentle touches, encouragement, sympathy, and love. 

My blue flax is perennial. Some consider it a weed. Year after year it blooms. I've had a couple of barren springs. It's time to prepare to blossom once again.