Sometimes we wait years to regain, or even experience for the first time, a certain feeling. A perfect moment. I remember having one such moment in Venice last April. A conversation with a stranger on the plane. Sitting sipping a perfect Bellini on a perfect day on a balcony overlooking the Rialto. Feeling safe. Feeling at home. Like it's all meant to be. It's a feeling so hard to pinpoint. You just know that everything feels perfect. Except It's not. My son wasn't there to share the moment.
What are you supposed to do when that perfect feeling has arisen from an imperfect world? When you appreciate that feeling in a way you haven't appreciated much before, but you know full well that the likelihood of experiencing it again is minimal. And that scares you. That you have no control over when, where & whether or not it will come around again,no matter how much you may want it to.
I know it will be said that you just hold onto that feeling & remember it. But what if it hurts to do that? Sometimes being stronger like that cuts more.
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