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Sunday, June 21, 2015

In the Moment

Special Memories, Dec 2012

My watch stopped. Time’s up.

It is a lazy sunny afternoon in late Spring. I am standing on the balmy C-Train platform downtown, waiting for the train to take me back to the office. People are slowly wandering back to their work places after the lunch hour. It is a slow wander to make the most of the beautiful sun shining between the tall Calgary oil company buildings. I crossed the street moments ago quickly, to catch the next train heading west.

When I made my way up the ramp to the platform, I wondered how much time I have left. I have to get to the office for my next meeting. My hand slipped into my left pant pocket and I felt the familiar smooth surface of my silver pocket watch and chain. As I walked, I looked down to the watch in my hand and read the time. Twenty to seven.

This cannot be, I thought to myself. I’ve just had lunch. I come to a standstill staring at my watch in disbelief. It is indeed what it shows. It suddenly dawns on me. My watch have stopped at Twenty to Seven this morning. I turn the watch over as I’ve done countless times before, and read the inscription: “Special Memories, Dec. 2012”. I check the time again. Still Twenty to Seven. A feeling of relief comes over me. It is time. It is finally here. Sooner than I thought, but more welcome than I expected. This is indeed, a special memory.

The Promise

When moments are important, why look at a watch to see them slip away? Why be reminded how many are gone? Even worse, why be notified just how few are still left?

My moments deteriorated. Little compromises put me off course, until I was so disoriented the last year that nothing mattered anymore. Everything felt wrong.

I decided to do something about it. I’ve set a deadline: When my watch stops, I should be in a place where watching time is no longer required. My hope was that on that day I will have realized a fundamental change in my world. By the time my watch stops every moment should matter. I will no longer trade them for anything less.

I also made myself a promise that I will seek out perfect moments. I will not be required to count, or tolerate the minutes and hours that slips away doing something I don’t love, being somewhere I don’t like, and talking to people that don’t matter. My time belongs to me. It is the most precious resource in my life. Perfect moment transcends time, while collections of moments like these make our memories. These memories are our stories.  

My promise to myself is to find perfect moments, perfect places, engaging people, while doing work that I love. I am promising myself a new and better story.

What follows from here onwards is a record of these moments, my memories. Call it: “Special Memories, Dec 2012”. It is my story.

I hope you enjoy it with me, as much as I did living each of them.

Hendrik van Wyk