Oh. if life were made of moments,
Even now and then a bad one!
But if life were only moments,
Then you’d never know you had one.
–Stephen Sondheim “Moments in the Woods”
I had lunch with my buddy SF SJ on Friday. We met at Steamers Asian Street Bistro, at the Pacwest Center. It’s one of my favorite spots for lunch. It was an enjoyable lunch, because the food was tasty, and the conversation was the kind of blessed exchange that occurs between people who have known each other for so long that bullshit is unnecessary. After our meal, we stepped outside, made our goodbyes and parted company.
The air was cold, very cold for March. And as I pulled my cap out of my jacket pocket, specks of ice began to patter down upon my head and shoulders. I decided to get a mocha to warm myself up.
And that was a Moment. A perfect and crystalline moment in time. Full of inner warmth from lunch with a good friend, looking forward to a hot coffee, the statue of Portlandia looming over my right shoulder. While specks of ice sprinkled down on me, I was suddenly buoyed by a feeling of peace and goodwill that is generally absent from my heart. I had the weekend ahead of me, I had good friends, and there was hot coffee in my near future to offset the bracingly cold air. Everything was right with the world.
I would love to tell you that I rode that swell of happiness and warmth for the rest of the day. Alas, by the time I came out of Seattle’s Best, the precipitation was liquid again, and that bubble of clarity was shrinking rapidly.
Oh, but while it lasted, even though it lasted only moments, life was sweet.