Here I am. Here we are. Who could have imagined it? The year is 2025, a time that once seemed so impossibly distant it belonged more to science fiction than reality. I remember when 1985 was not a past we recall but a future we anticipated—some strange, uncharted place. How quickly time flies, like a bird carried on the wind. And yet, at other times, it drags itself forward with the groaning of old wheels, grinding uphill as if reluctantly pulled by unseen forces. But today, time feels suspended, as though it has paused to catch its breath. I am not pushing onward, nor am I being dragged forward. I simply am, present in this moment, in this particular space.
Hunter will turn two this month—his birthday falls on the 30th of January. For him, life here will be short, far shorter than mine or anyone else’s. I find myself wondering: is this brevity a gift or a loss? And yet, there is something about the way he lives that I envy. He doesn’t seem concerned with the passage of time. He lives only in the present, and his greatest desire is simply to be near me. What a profound simplicity. Today, I ask myself, What will Hunter teach me today?
Last night was restless. Sleep evaded me, as if it were some elusive prey I couldn’t catch. I lay awake, haunted by old memories that crept out of the past and by anxious thoughts about what the future might hold. The harder I tried to quiet my mind, the louder these rogue thoughts became. They stole into my peace, leaving me weary and unrefreshed.
Now, with a full day ahead of me, I wish I had slept better. There are tasks to complete and places to go, but my mind drifts back to the question: why do we allow the past and the future to steal the present from us? The present moment is where eternity brushes against our lives—where the infinite meets the finite. And yet, we so often squander it.
What strange, intricate creatures we are—woven from threads of body, mind, and spirit, bound to time yet yearning for eternity. We have a past that shapes us, a future that calls us, and only a fleeting moment to stand still in this space. Today, in this brief pause, I simply am. And for that, I am grateful—for this moment, for this place, and for Hunter, faithfully by my side.
Leave a Reply