Perfect moments are things that come once or twice in a decade, they are fleeting and normally unexpected. They mostly come on days where they are least likely to happen, or in moments where they have no explanation. But they are far from forgettable, even when indefinable. They burn themselves onto the memory stems of our brain; forever.
And unlike pain…they never fade
And they never lose their magic
My first came on a walk; from the toilets, back to the tent on a summer’s day, with the assistance of Sade; dads and babies; friends; lovers; an amazing subwoofer; and multiple swaying bodies
My second involved 3 children who were at first, separated, looking at each other with the self-consciousness of adults. Staring with the awkwardness of teenagers, and reeking with the transparent vulnerability of a child. The 4 of us were positioned in a large circle, one at each compass point. Totally apart; but all in view of one another. I’d just bought a bottle of bubbles from the shop, and to pass the time I began blowing.
As the sky began to fill up with magic globes, all 3 of them lit up too; and all within second’s of each other…
They started leaping up to catch and pop the bubbles that flew from my magic wand… it was enchanting. They screamed when they ‘scored’; that sort of innocent amazing uplifting little yelp that can only come from a child. Every so often; the feisty Italian boy stopped chasing the bubbles, and began slapping me on my bare belly for ownership of the bubbles, stretching his tiny arms up as he shouted orders at me with Italian words, laced with heavy African tones; I’d say NO, (but smile like yes); then raise the bottle away from his reach ’til he gave up and went back to leaping in the air…with the shy and awkward, pale rosy-cheeked English little girl, who now looked like a different person to the one I watched fidgeting less than 5 minutes before. The sweet toddler who wobbled and missed every bubble was magic to observe. His lack of ability was no problem; he squeaked with pure unadulterated ‘first time style’ joy, all the way through it anyway!
Bubbles are one of life’s miracles
The third came with the merging of …emotional distress, shock, an aching heart, a deck chair, 4 cups of wine/meth’s, orange/green/turquoise/and cerise pink, the sound of a waterfall, the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen, and Bob Marley
The 4th was in a very poor giant human hair dryer at Chessington Zoo
And there have been a scattering of others too…
But it seems when it’s your year (and I believe we all get at least one year each; where life is proper scrummy to us)
Perfection comes in abundance
In conversations about the colouration of baby pigeons, when smoking cigarettes on window ledges under old school sashes with amazing views. Views made up in part; of dirty cigarette butts and industrial ugliness. In temperatures that make you rattle so hard you can’t speak
In really poor songs by even poorer singers from Scotland; and on buses that meander through industrial estates, driven by scary men who refuse to give change, or even a ticket
In burger bars that sell luke warm chips, and on mattresses with sheets that don’t fit
And on mattresses where the sheets fit slightly better…
In icy silences where nothing much is happening
In waiting and wanting, and in realising you are wrong all the time
In this imperfect world, if you’re lucky enough to have enough imperfection in your inner and outer surroundings, it seems that perfection is everywhere…