‘What are they?’ he asked.
‘Those are moments,’ I said.
‘What are they made of?’ he asked.
They are times, I thought, when you win a race or win a heart…
‘What are they made of?’ he asked again.
‘They are made up of times when we are fully present.’
I picked up one of the specks with the tip of my finger.
‘Do you remember this?’ I asked.
‘Of course,’ he said, ‘I was whistling in the kitchen that morning.’
‘Why?’ I asked.
‘Because of the knowledge that I was loved.
Bits of a Moment: Kamand Kojouri
Image: meriamber tumbler
Inky: I dreamed last night. I relived a moment of time when I was utterly betrayed. My heart was ripped from my chest, and I dreamed I could no longer breath. I woke this morning, muscles sore, my heart hurting, tears streaming from my eyes. I haven’t thought of that person in many years. Thought it was long forgotten. Yet he invaded my dreams last night. Maybe to keep the betrayal fresh, that would be like him. Or maybe it was because my hero betrayed love, 11:30 last night, in my manuscript.
Experiences are riches to writers. But sometimes, they are a road trip to hell that never goes away. I’m taking the day off.