How many times does one fully realize the real value of things before those things have actually gone? How often do we grasp the beauty of those little moments, moments we’d think of absolutely no importance, before they stop belonging to the present and become part of the past instead?
Surely this sounds like nothing new to most of us, but somehow the need of putting it down in words, yet once again, is strong: it’s what we’ve lost forever that we’ll miss the most, or at least what we know will never come back to us, not in the way it used to be.
This is, I believe, some sort of universal knowledge that we all share, only one that is hidden within our heart somewhere, in the deep, and that won’t come out until its power is no longer able to change anything. That is, until when it’s too late for it to serve any purpose whatsoever.
Let me explain myself.
We find ourselves waiting for all sorts of things, hoping that our current circumstances will change in some way or another. What we want can be anything: more money, a new house, a new playstation, a new pair of shoes, a new partner… Or a different life.
We pray to God, oh please God, give me what I’m asking you, I know I’ll be happy then, I know that’s really all I need to reach pure bliss for the rest of my days.
But then it’s only when it’s too late that we realize that what we wanted to make us truly happy was in fact already there. When we lose the person who was there to support us in our research for the perfect partner, or listened to us when we talked about what we desired. When we were working hard to earn the money we needed for our new car, then we were happy, not now that the car’s been needing a good washing for months. It is when the day we were so much waiting for has come to an end, in fact has perhaps already become yesterday, when what is left of it is nothing but the pale, blurred souvenir of that excitement, that trembling with the emotions of the expectations which preceded that supposedly special day.
It’s been Christmas day today, and this is now coming to an end. The night has fallen, and all the magic the air was so full of in the last three weeks or so seems to have disappeared, exploded and left, never to return.
So what was the beauty of Christmas, this very day in which we’ve eaten too much and got a bit bored (to be quite honest with you)? Or rather the sequence of little moments of waiting, filled with hope and enthusiasm, by which we’ve looked forward to Christmas with dreaming hearts and minds?
I’ll leave the answer to you. I think I know what mine looks like.
texts by Laura ”Croft” Vivio
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