It was raining outside as I cuddled with my toddler on the couch. She just finished eating half a dozen Trader Joe alphabet cookies and the smell of cinnamon radiated from her. We comfortably melted into the blankets and cushions, listening to the soft sound of the rain.
Silvia Curbelo’s words have been echoing in my head for months. The Tampa poet’s words were illuminated during a public art display earlier this year. They caught me off guard.
‘Can you stand perfectly still and hold this moment open?’, it said.
What moment?
What does ‘still’ mean?
I saw this art piece in a city park at night. I was pushing our infant in a stroller and my husband was corralling our toddler in the dark. Our life with two young children is everything but still.
When Curbelo wrote the phrase, she considered the concept of happiness – we chase it and work for it, but are hardly content.
Months later, the statement soaked into my bones. When I was cuddling my daughter. She being as small as she ever will be.
Moments like this are fleeting.
They are precious.
Some precious films have taught me this. I hear Jim Carey as the narrator in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind say, “This is the last time I saw you.” I hear Hazel Grace in The Fault in Our Stars explaining what a “last good day” is. I think of the flashbacks in Signs. I see the larger-than-life memories in Big Fish. Those scripts are written from a place of finding moments in the ordinary.
Us on the couch was one of those moments for me. We melted into the cushions that afternoon, with the rain gently trickling down our bungalow home.
And it was only 30 seconds.
30 seconds until a TV commercial interrupted the rain.
30 seconds until my toddler got antsy and pulled the blankets off my feet.
For those 30 seconds I stood still and held that moment open.
Can you remember the last time you held a moment ‘open?’ Photos from this post were taken during Lights on Tampa, in February 2015, which included glowing LEDs in the Hillsborough River and an interactive carnival-style game, which lit up the 31-story downtown tower to the response of your mallet.
Nice piece. I’ve been noticing these moments ALOT lately as Colby seems to be growing by the hour vs by the day, week, month. In the midst of all the chaos I try to remember that these beautiful moments of the babes being so young & free have an expiration date. The small moments are just so beautiful. Thanks for the great piece!
Thanks for the comment, Kate :) So true! And what I didn’t mention in the post is those moments aren’t necessarily “still” like the one I wrote about was. I’m learning there are less of those with now raising my boy.
Stillness in the heart. I am learning in the mist of chaos around me; body’s in motion, lights, sounds of talking,laughter, or tears that my heart can be stilled and soak in the moment and capture it like a snap shot on my soul. These moments as our children grown begin to define in us something that is absent from words but forever felt with emotion.
Very moving post Andrea. I enjoy the writing from your life experiences very much. It give us a glimpse into your heart.
I agree, Maryanne. Love that phrase – “snap shot on my soul.” Thanks for the comment and sweet words!