We have them, all of us do — it’s just, do we recognize them?
Most of the time, I choose not to. Sadly, I look for more, something more satisfying than what I’m currently being served. I believe that almost perfect moments surround us constantly. Not that I would usually ever notice.
I have been one of those people who are not easily satisfied. Whatever the situation, it could be better; with someone else, something different, at a different time. The moment could be on its tiptoes, reaching for the stars and it won’t be enough. The music was wrong. The weather was too humid. My hair was not working. I can’t seem to let loose and realize what is right in front of me.
This was a major problem while I was in high school and college. I could be dating a guy or hanging out with friends, yet I believed that I would be having a better time with someone, anyone else. Even if the chemistry was there, we were having a good time — I had to ruin it with these thoughts.
Lately, I have had to slow down and realize some hard truths. This is my one and only life in the here and now. I won’t be getting this time back. And I’d better learn to enjoy what I have, how little or small, or I will look back with some major regrets.
So I’ve decided it’s not worth it to start petty arguments or become upset by seemingly tiny things, and I’m much, much happier because of it.
When those almost perfect moments happen, I’m trying to let them happen without manipulating them into something they are not.
Last weekend, my boyfriend Nate and I decided to take advantage of one of the holiday attractions that New York City has to offer: Skating in Bryant Park. The line was long, the air was bitterly cold, and skate rentals were fourteen bucks each. Sometimes (okay, a lot of the time), something about this would irritate me to no end. Perhaps I would complain or become soured early in the experience. But not this time. We joked around, held hands, and were looking up at the sliver of moon in the night sky. When we finally received our skates, heading out onto the rink, it was completely packed with people. While Nate was able to go forward and backwards with ease on the ice, all I could think about was falling and perhaps breaking an ankle. While this remained a worry, I didn’t let it bother me too much. Instead, we completed laps while Doris Day’s voice echoed from the speakers. Of course, I fell, but laughed it off. We stood on the side for a long time, just enjoying our time together and in awe of what we were experiencing. We kind of looked into each others’ eyes and my mind was flooded with all the reasons I so enjoyed us as a couple.
So much was going wrong at the time. I had started a low-paying job that wasn’t working out very well, Nate and I had spent barely any time with one another because of our schedules, and I was just not happy being away from family. Yet, this moment brought me out and away from all those problems. Even though it was one of those times I should have recognized right away as near perfect, I didn’t. It was just fun, to me.
It was a day later, on the plane back to Iowa, that it flitted back. Brief snapshots of the night before. It was a simple activity, with no grand gestures or beautiful words uttered like from a movie. It just was.
I’m glad for near perfect moments like this one. Thankful for the restraint to not ruin it, and for the ability to recognize the significance later. Something I will definitely cherish later in life.