Live Your Moments

“Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.”

~ Hilary Cooper

A trite phrase, often overused, like “I Hope You Dance” played at a wedding reception.

Trite doesn’t make it any less true. 

A baser explanation would be quality, not quantity.  And that’s where so many get lost.  We fill our days but we fill them with nonsense.  We fill them with meaningless text messages, many of them acronyms for words we are far, far too busy to spell out.  We fill them with staring at the screens of our cell phones or computers instead of enjoying our surroundings. 

Many complain of having an empty life, a boring life, a meaningless life.  All while surrounded by people who could add to that life – significant others, family, friends, strangers.  In this age of electronics, of instant gratification, we’ve forgotten how to live.  Despite capturing every moment on a camera phone, we’ve stopped living those moments.  We watch them through a screen – not as they’re happening. 

I’ve had this same struggle, feeling at times that my life is empty, or rather, not full enough.  That there are too few bright spots. 

I have to make those bright spots.  I have to live them as they’re happening or they’ll escape. 

In thinking about all of this, there are moments in my life that have taken my breath away.  These are the moments I need to huddle close around me in those times when I feel the dark creeping in.  These are the things I must remember, that I need to be present in my own life and be in the moments that are yet to come.

There have been a million moments in my life where I felt full, where I felt happy.  They are like fireflies dancing in the yard during a summer night; each little light carrying a piece of my past where I was happy, where I threw back my head and laughed, where my laughter probably turned into a snort. 

But then…then there are moments that cannot ever be replicated. 

The night I met my husband was one of those moments.  I met him during a dark time for me, one where I was unsure of what the future would hold.  He sat down across from me with a slow smile and that was it.  My heart stopped, my breath caught.  I barely remember what we talked about that night.  I do remember driving home with a smile on my face that refused to disappear.  For days.  I’ve never been described as a giddy woman, but I was then.  I was done for. 

The first time I saw my son’s face is another.  The first time those little eyes opened and stared at me, little button nose and rosebud mouth peering out at me from the blanket burrito he was swaddled in melted every hard edge of me that existed for a little while.

We need to remember - *I*need to remember to hold onto happy.  Grasp it with both hands and don’t let go.  Cling to those memories when life seems at its darkest.  Live those moments, be present in them.  Put the camera down.  Turn off the computer.  Raise the blinds.  Remove your blinders. 

Live these moments we’re given.  Because we only get to live this life once.