"Somewhere Over Seattle" (a quick-short story)

(I've been writing some short stories. I plan to write more while on this vacation. It's hard for me to share pieces of my writing that haven't been edited and re-written and picked all to pieces by my insecurities, but that is what I am going to do here. It's going to be my own little exercise in bravery!)

Somewhere Over Seattle ©

by Trudy M. Conway

Life is made up of time, but all the things that make life real is made up of moments.

The moment that you actually hear the meaning in someone's voice, instead of just listening to the words they happen to be saying.

There are times when you lost everything you had, only because you didn't realize how important the moment was. You didn't know that you should have apologized or admitted or repented or just reached over and touched the hand that was being held out to you.

Moments of extreme joy are only revealed as joyful, sometimes, when that moment is old and faded and gone to dust.

We didn't choose our lifetime, but we can choose our moments.

The longest moments - those that seem to stretch out for eternity - are ones that make up a life being born, a future begun,  or a life ebbing away... That kiss between two people who have just made promises of loving, honoring, cherishing. The tear that is sitting in your eye and waiting to fall while someone you love is taking in the breath that will be their last. The looks between you and the stranger who could become part of the reason for your lifetime.

Moments make up lives and lifetimes.

Time means nothing to the moment. Time stops with moments.

A moment is an inhale of a question -

"What might this be?"
"What does this mean?"
"Does it really matter/"
"Who is this person?"
"Should I do this?"
"Do I walk away?"
"What now?"

- and life or a lifetime is the exhale of an answer.

Somewhere over Seattle, my soul was asking questions, and I'm still waiting to breathe.

Peace
--Free