“Life’s most profound truths often hide behind quiet moments—in subtle glances, unspoken words, and the spaces between chaos and calm. It’s there, in the stillness, that we discover who we truly are.”—Thomas Slatin
It’s strange how the smallest moments in life can leave the most indelible marks. I’ve long believed that the vast majority of life happens not in grand gestures or monumental decisions, but in the fleeting seconds that we often overlook. There’s a peculiar, poetic beauty in these unnoticed fragments of existence, easy to miss if you aren’t paying attention.
Take, for instance, a single moment from my childhood. I was eight years old, standing barefoot on a sun-warmed spot in my parents back yard, watching ants navigate the cracks of my favorite tree that I called my dreaming tree. The air smelled of summer—freshly mowed grass baking under the sun’s relentless heat. It was an unremarkable day, just an ordinary afternoon in the life of an adolescent girl. Yet, in that moment, I remember feeling completely alive. The world felt vast and endless, holding infinite possibilities. And though I didn’t know it at the time, that moment would stay with me to recall in my darker moments—reminding me how life can feel full even when nothing extraordinary is happening or it seems everything is due to be lost for good.
As adults, we become conditioned to think that only the big milestones matter. Graduations, weddings, promotions, retirements—these arbitrary societal markers we’re told to remember as way-points of a life well-lived. So, what about the in-between moments that we often overlook and forget? What about those nights I spent staring at the stars, or foggy mornings when the haze is just enough to soften the hardness of cold hard reality.
I often think about the idea of presence—of truly existing in the here and now. It’s especially difficult in a world rife with distractions. We rush from one obligation to the next, chasing deadlines and dreams, always reaching ahead to the next thing. But in doing so, how much do we miss? How many small, perfect moments slip through our fingers simply because we aren’t paying attention?
When I was a Firefighter and Paramedic, life came at me fast and brutal. I saw the absolute worst that humanity could offer. There are tragedies that haunt me still, despite the years that have passed. But even then, amidst madness and heartbreak, I could find moments of grace. A child’s laughter breaks through the tension. A sunset paints the sky after a grueling shift. Such transient moments reminded me that beauty exists even in the darkest of times, if only we take the time to see it, and appreciate it for the good things we still have to look forward to tomorrow.
Now, in the quieter life I’ve built for myself, I find these moments everywhere. It’s in the way my wife’s hand feels in mine, a silent promise of love, and constancy. It’s in the songs that play softly on the radio, grounding me when my thoughts threaten to spiral. And it’s in the way nascent sunlight filters through the trees in early morning, casting long, golden shadows that stretch across the ground promising a brand new day.
I’ve learned to stop chasing big moments. They’ll happen, if they’re meant to, in good time. I no longer keep schedules, observe holidays, or cliched wisdom. I prefer to keep my short-term and long-term plans to a bare minimum.
Life isn’t about a grand crescendo—it’s about the melody that plays softly in the background. And if we listen closely, we’ll hear it. The real magic—what makes life worth living—exists in the spaces between. It’s in the sound of rain on the roof during a sleepless night. It’s in the way the air smells just before a thunderstorm. It’s the withering of tired leaves in autumn. It’s in the quiet, shared glances that say more than words ever could.
So today, I challenge you to notice the in-between. Pause for a moment. Let yourself truly see, hear, and feel the world around you. There’s a certain kind of immortality in these quiet moments, gently reminding us that we are still alive. In the end, isn’t that more than enough?
Colophon
The photo accompanying this article showcases a framed picture of me as a young girl, wearing my purple sweater, captured during my childhood years in New York City. Despite the name Thomas, given to me at birth, I was, in fact, assigned female at birth.
Asides
It’s The Small Everyday Moments That Define Us | Unusual Facts About Me | An Errant Heat To The Star | In Autumn, It Is Love That Lingers In The End | The Relentless Pursuit Of A Feeling You Can’t Get Back | A Little Ghost For The Offering | The Plot | I Have Been A Lot Different | Reflections On Love, Growth, And The Irony Of Fate | Now Is The Time To Let Go | I Have So Many Thoughts, But Have Lost My Breath To Say The Words I Need To Speak | In Another Set Of Chances I’d Take The Ones I’ve Missed | Noughts And Crosses And Kitties
