There are certain moments for which we know to be beautiful: a child’s first steps; the sight of someone we love down the aisle; a smile between strangers.
I cannot tell you who was first – the one who made it to the top of a mountain, who turned and took a step back. That day they’d welcome a view that would fill them.
I can imagine – that they ran, slowed only by their trying legs, back to their village. There was no time to walk: they’d found the secret!
Everyone would gasp: “To what?”
Ah, but to fulfilment, they would nod. To life!
From then on, it would be written in our genes. We’d be born seekers. No longer would we accept the emptiness in our hearts; we’d live a life to fill them! We would travel for moments – those which were miles from mundane no matter how often they occurred. Not just a synonym to happiness, they’d become its definition.
At some point, we’d reach February 2016. To the sunsets at Tindall’s Bay.
Here’s where we’d stop running. No, here – in front of the star – we would read.
I had forgotten how good it is to read. I closed The Beach by Alex Garland at 6.08pm to see what he had described.
The sun danced and played with it’s own shadows. And in it, I did play too. Absolutely thrilled to be invited to the party.
We lost track of time: me and the sun. It was supposed to go to bed hours before. But it didn’t; 9pm and it’s toes still tinkled in the water.
For once, the moon didn’t seem to mind. It sat on the other side of the sky, happy to watch as laughter fell on the shoreline, as kisses marked like foot prints.
Ava’s laugh was young and spirited. It sung to the sunset, offering friendship. This would be the first of many evenings they would share.
The sand fell into an impressionable state. An old soul, it knew to savour the moment.
This Summer, I thought, if I do not find myself, I will instead find myself in these moments. And if I do see, I’ll see that nothing shall ever compete in significance.