Life is about experiencing ‘moments’ in time, but even more importantly, it’s about being able to recognize them as precious moments and to fully appreciate them for what they are.
Even the simplest moments.
Such as the first time someone you cared about told you how much they loved you, or the first time you held your new baby in your arms, or even the first time you tasted good chocolate.
We experienced some real ‘moments’ this holiday.
Which is strange, because it wasn’t the most expensive or well-planned holiday we’ve shared – in fact it emanated from a veritable hotchpotch of ideas, hastily thrown together and booked at the last minute, and was driven solely by the need to just get away.
Memorable ‘moments’ for me this holiday include a long-overdue romantic walk with the old man on the beach in Byron Bay at sunset, the cool sand hugging my toes, my husband’s sweaty hand in mine, and only marred by him breaking the spell and saying just that little bit too soon ‘shall we go now?’ Then there was that Italian ‘special’ we risked, of oozing Mozzarella cloaked in wafer-thin Prosciutto and sun-dried tomatoes and drizzled with the finest olive oil, freshest herbs and garlic.
There was that desperate stop at a beach that we found just off the highway, which proved to be a glorious, hidden gem of nature. Then on our last night, I watched my son sing and play Coldplay’s ‘Yellow’ on the piano, as naked as the day he entered the world and with just as much gay abandon, whilst we were in the ‘forest retreat’ I had stumbled upon on Wotif – a place more magical than any kingdom Walt Disney could invent.
“The words ‘forest’ and ‘retreat’ are two of my least favourite words,” Kurt had grumbled in the backseat as we approached the gravel road leading to the property.
But even my unapologetic, self-serving teenage son ate his words when he looked across across our verandah to this vista beyond.
Top of Kurt’s list of favourite moments was the journey home (!) – inevitably – watching the old man spill red wine over his head as he tripped over the side of the spa on our deck, driving off-road like they do in Top Gear (he described this as the best five seconds of his life and the previous days of our holiday as the worst five days of his life) and joining that young band of stragglers on the beach who took him in and helped him discover some Byron Bay spirituality.
As we climbed of the car this morning, weary but back in the safety and predictability of The Block and our everyday lives, our son thanked us for our holiday. I think his words were “even though I know I’ve been a bit of a dickhead to you, I have enjoyed parts of it”.
Big words. Another ‘moment’.
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