And just as the weather began to warm, the snow fell. As I type, snow is sticking to the ground in April. This is Montreal and this is normal, but in some ways it snuck up on me. For the past few weeks we've been having enormously good weather. It's been roundabout 10 degrees Celsius. I saw people eating outside! It was indeed marvelous, but it was short lived.And in digression I feel most aware.
Last night was the first outdoor practice for the soccer team. The practice was short and refreshing. Playing outdoors is always more fun than the indoor mess. It was a good reminder of how much I enjoy it. Halfway through practice it started to snow lightly and in patches. It was beautiful.
Afterwards I stayed behind to knock the ball around. An older man joined in and was decent at his craft. His name was Johnathon, if you were wondering; he was born Francophone and married an Anglophone. Interestingly, his children speak four languages: English, French, Spanish, and Italian. He assured us they are all basically the same. I hit my most accurate passes when we were together -- which in most cases missed the target completely. By that time the snow had started to fall at a heavier rate and stick to the playing surface. I looked around and saw patches of white mixed with the artificial turf and a shower of rotund particles. As we kept pinging, I felt an overwhelming feeling of happiness.
That's really all I can describe it as and it is really all that should make sense. It was a moment of clarity when one can explain in their most quiet demeanor 'I am truly feeling this moment'. That moment, then, was frozen -- if even for a few milliseconds. It was a little present one could take with them and store in their front pocket for when they forget what life is. They can take it out, polish it off, and sniff or rub or look inside whenever they feel life is getting away from them. Life is these moments. Life is little but made big by what one can appreciate. Life is loving every second even though its insignificance is strikingly apparent in the grand scheme of things. Life is snow in mid-April in Montreal on a soccer pitch. Johnathon is life. This is life. Now is life.
And okay, maybe I have not yet realized what life is completely. But I'm getting an idea. I've got to brave the storm now and make my way to school on the metro (which admittedly isn't braving a thing). Perhaps this is my last snowfall of the semester. I think I'll touch it. Maybe I'll open my mouth skyward. Both are possibilities. I'm sure I'll take the time to bottle up a few instants for later on.
