Moments and Seconds

My daughter asked me yesterday, "What is longer? A moment or a second?" Temporarily thrown off by the question, I was at a loss at how to respond. My husband supplied, " a second is shorter." Yes, yes of course. Slowly, I pieced together an answer, talking as I went. It is measurable after all. A moment can be a year...a month...a few days or a cluster of seconds. When I look back at a period of time, I reflect on that chunk of time being a moment, a coordinated series of days or minutes that are held together by the memory we hang onto for a reason. A moment is only measurable in words or by the unspeakable by one or a particular group of people that happened to experience a span of time exactly the same way. It is either a fateful one or a significant one. A meaningful glance, murmured words or a realization that dawns on us as we witness something that stands out. It is a way of remembering a time, a still photograph in the midst of a motion picture.

The second is here whether there is a moment happening or not. A regular beat of time continues along to add up minutes and hours and days and years. Moments on the other hand, rise up in relief against the monotone drip drip drip of counting time.

Comments

I entered August without you.

I won't visit you this month. You won't call. I will raid your garden and you won't get any of the vegetables. I will make plans without telling you about them. We'll go to the store and not buy you one single thing. Whole books will be read and I will not tell you which ones. I will watch movies and not inform you. The nasturiums will ripen. Last month was different. I changed my schedule and took time off work to be with you. I dropped all kinds of plans for us to be together. You sent me messages, I received them. I picked up food that I thought you would like at the store and sent you pictures of every beautiful thing I saw. I sang with you. We watched the Great Canadian Baking Show. You chose the recipe for the garlic scape pesto and gave me instructions for making the gooseberry jam. I am in August without you. You are in July.

Fists full of lettuce

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Shake your Bummy

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Growing Versions

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