A happy couple gazes at the Arkansas River, side by side, leaning into each other. They're resting from their work on the garden. The man props his shovel across his shoulder. The dirt is tilled and ready for seeds now. It's a pleasant moment, and I've happened to catch it, looking over their shoulders...
In truth, this couple is a miniature statue placed in an empty flower bed on the downtown sidewalk that meanders along the river. I am on my normal jogging route, and have just glanced at the statue on my way by yet again. I don't have an exact description of the little people, because I've never completely stopped to look. I do know it's a cute statue, and every time I promise myself I will come back when I'm not jogging so I can take a picture of it. It's a spring evening, so the slanting sunlight on the figure seems particularly artistic. But after the 10th time, I pass by again and mentally kick myself for forgetting to come by at a different time with my camera. By the time I finish my jog, I've forgotten all about the happy couple, only to remember when I see them again, a peripheral blur.
Isn't this like life? I've got my normal routine with its typical experiences. Not uncommonly, there is something that affects my day and makes me slow a pace, but I've got to keep on with my tasks, so I move on without documenting it. No photos of normal married life, my husband working on the cars; no written poems about how I've been especially loved or hurt by a friend; no creative sessions at the piano after hearing a word from the Lord... I tell myself I'll get to it one day, because these are things that matter to me, but they still haven't happened. Each time I forget, the details of poignant moments fade. They are blurs in my peripheral vision... but really, they're more central than I realize at the time.
What are your blurs?
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