For the first time in weeks, I feel like I actually have a moment.
Technically, I’m still on the clock, and there’s still work to be done today, but I can take a moment, just a moment right now, before diving back into work.
Just a moment.
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I’ve changed the aquarium water. It was long overdue, and I apologize to my rather large and dirty fish for the wait. They’re helpless and I’ve not been the best aquarium keeper as of late.
We got them when my daughter was tiny; they’ve been with us now for the better part of five years, and grown from tiny feeders to very large, eight- or nine-inch beauties.
I’m glad they’ll be able to breathe a little easier again.
— § —
There is nothing in particular to report, and nothing in particular that I feel right now. I am just taking a moment, for the first time in a very long time, to enjoy the light coming in the window, gray-blue and beautiful, as winter light always has been.
The blinds in my office have been permanently closed since July. I forgot that they existed. I forgot, in some ways, that light existed. Now suddenly they’re open again, and the light itself could almost be mistaken for the future, for time, for possibility.
The light creates degrees of freedom and possibility where a moment ago there was only stasis. That is fitting, given that all life on earth begins with light. Light is literally the genesis of all things, the carrier of all potential for living things like myself, my family, and these fish.
It is interesting to me that the presence of natural light seems to change my perception of time, given the physics. I don’t want to get all mystical and new age here, but it is interesting. I do feel it on a visceral level.
— § —
I wonder if that’s what’s been missing from my life.
Something that simple?