
Actually, it might be the trailing edge of the receding wave. Actually.
There was a time when our daughter started nearly all her sentences — pronouncements? — with “actually.” She was maybe six years old. Actually, if she reads this, she might remember. Remember saying “actually” and remember how old she was.
It was a fun time. They were all fun times and how little it seems we appreciated them. I was thinking about that with the trick-or-treaters tonight. Gone in a blink, a tiny puff of wind, a glint of a raindrop.
There was a science fiction story called “Slow Glass” in which one could look out one window of a house and see the past again, in slow motion, from ten or twenty years before. A wistful notion. Precious, actually.
Well said. I wish I could go back and record the mundane.
Yes, sigh, the mundane is often so poignant. But one doesn’t understand to stop to feel it at the time, and somehow even noticing later doesn’t help us recognize future mundane moments for their fleeting delight. Wish that we could.
I don’t remember how old I was — actually. 😉
I read all of your blog posts!
I think I remember that sci-fi story, too.