I look at this photo that was shared on Facebook and I think. She remembers how to do it. She’s still got something precious that many of us have lost.

She knows how to be right there, in the moment, present, awake and aware of exactly where she is. Allowing herself to feel, to really feel. Giving herself permission to take it in and absorb what she is witnessing into every pore of her being. The moment may be fleeting, but all she is experiencing will be in her human time line forever. What she will take away on her way back to her life will be far more than a Facebook posting.

The Moment. 

Are you in it or are you somewhere else?

Are you plugged in to something other than where you are?

Are you busy attempting to capture something or are you living it?

Are you looking down and wildly moving your thumbs to choose a cute emoji to go with a message or are you looking at what is in your sights?

Where are you?

Are you here? Or are you there, in a somewhere that is just not about the now that you are sadly missing.

The woman in the photo is absorbed in the present, she is soaking it in and recording it in her memory. Later she’ll glow as she very likely exaggerates all she witnessed and how she felt and weave a story in the sharing of an experience.

Sunday night I took my grandson Sam to see the fireworks. He’s one of my mates. I used to drag my daughter around with me before, Sam arrived. She now prefers to push Sam towards me, “Here, he’ll go.”

I say, “Sam you want to check out an art show, a band, a festival?” He shrugs his shoulders with a nonchalant “Okay.” He throws himself into the car and off we go.  We’re early and Sam’s not one to just coast. He has a ball and he has to throw it, kick it, fake juggling (that I’m sure he’ll master at some point) all over the field. This is when I wish I could whistle, the kind you use when calling back the family dog. But I can’t. However, the Mom gene kicks in and I let out the classic wail, “SAMMMMM, GET BACK HERE!”

Shrugs his shoulders and back he runs. “How much longer?”

“Thirty minutes.”

“Play catch with me, Alma.”

We do. Till it’s down to the count-down moment. We pass the ball back and forth standing then sitting, then he decides we should take turns holding our arms in the shape of a hoop, time for a little basketball. I bless the human who invented the Nerf. Could have been tragic.

Every time I catch that ball I am secretly wowing with amazement inside. I don’t think I ever began really catching and throwing a ball till I had grand children. Couldn’t and therefore wouldn’t. Story for another time.

“When we’re at the one minute mark, tell me.”

“9:59, Sam. One minute to go.”

He starts counting backwards.

Our anticipation builds. We look into the night sky and BANG a spectacular explosion of light and sparkles. 

I intentionally left my camera at home and was only armed with my phone. I’m still thinking of the woman in the photo. Now, I would need a few picks for Sam and I to look back on. But then I put it away and Sam and I leaned into each other and yelled in ‘awe harmony’ at each burst of light.

“Alma, did you see that? It was a heart! It was a heart! Did you see that?!”

“Yes, I did Sam, Wow!”

Tomorrow it will be a memory, where the sparks and the ooh and the ahh from the night sky are now in me. A memory that I’ll weave a story about, I’ll exaggerate and I’ll smile – because I was really there. 

I was present.

Photos: Internet stock and Facebook Posting