Moment by Moment

If life is little more than a series of moments, surely the moment a young dog-walker rounds Bernal Hill and the city reveals itself off to the north has to be one of the better ones of this particular day.

At a high school meeting tonight, I looked at the teachers and students and administrators with a bit of wonder. They were excited about telling us parents about their studies, enjoying the moment.

Earlier, watching my daughter study for a geography exam, the moment came when she had run out of ways to prepare when she suddenly brightened: "I know, I'll trace the map of China and then put all the place names on it. That way, I'll learn them all better."

My youngest son actually smiled when I picked him up from school. "This is a great day!" he said, a surprising moment after an extended period of laconic teenaged alienation. I wonder if he's met a new girl.

On the bus yesterday, an African-American man, middle-aged, was talking about hat shops and how they are not any good ones in San Francisco, but there are in Detroit. That made me remember my Uncle Ed's hat shop from my childhood in Detroit.

We never did get that snow that was predicted; in fact, we got summer again instead. Everyone was disappointed but we'll get over it.

One moment I am working, the next I am being a parent, the next I am relaxing with a book, the next cooking a meal, the next checking email, the next cleaning up the dishes.

Moment after moment after moment.

And the sum of it all is one man's life.

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