To Be Now

“I imagine that ‘yes’ is the only living thing.”— e.e. cummings

To be now.

At this time, I hear the sounds of practice and passion that I’ve listened to in the past. It is pouring out of the stranger playing the guitar before me. The voice singing sweetly in the room reminds me of that intensely awesome someone I once knew.

To be in this moment in life is to watch the sunset and see a photograph found in the kitchen drawer. The sun is fading beyond the horizon, and I’m putting the photo back in for storage. I’m thinking, it is beautiful, and if it’s in the drawer, maybe I’ll stumble upon it again.  If not found again, it is here, hidden and kept.

To be in this brevity is tasting hot food on my tongue, and it tastes like yesterday, melting years away with each bite. It is both good and sad. I have sensed it before at the table with my mother, as the breezes blew in through the open screen door, in that cluttered, tight dining room.  The taste is warm, pleasant, and distinct.

To be in this space is to be near loved ones and not caress their foreheads or brush their cheeks with gentle kisses. They are adults, not children, though I see in their eyes the mischievous blue-eyed angel and the green-eyed, smiling cherub longing to be touched.

To be in this period is to smell the ocean, as the wind brings it to me, and to inhale the memories of boardwalk stalls, lemonade, sunscreen, and seaweed. It is to breathe in the sunshine of summer and the sounds of the waves as they reach for my wading feet.

To be now is to be beyond the perceived midpoint of my life. What importance is that really?

To be now is to know, to remember, to reminisce.

To be now is to live.

How can I be now?

It is difficult to sit at this intersection of existence, with trouble remembered and grieving to come.

How do I want to be? Now, I sense wonder and pain.

I want to be.

Now, for me, “to be” is to express possibility.  Now is, as always, really.

There may still be more of that for me to be possible.

Now.