Life is not measured by the amount of breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away (Micalea Smeltzer, Finding Olivia).
Such was the moment that day as I walked across the parking lot of the grocery store when - above the hustle and bustle of the busy street that lay behind me, above the noise of the shoppers walking to and fro from the store in front of me - suddenly, I heard the voice of a child calling out my name over and over again.
I looked toward the store in front of me and saw nothing. I looked toward the street behind me and saw nothing, I looked to my left and still nothing. I thought that perhaps the voice I had heard was only my imagination. That is until I looked to my right.
Across the street in the school yard there had to be at least a hundred kids enjoying recess and, right in the midst of all those children, I saw one solitary outstretched arm reaching up toward the sky and the hand that was attached to it was waving frantically at me! It was then that I realized the voice calling out my name belonged to my niece, Chrissy.
My first thought was, "My, what great eye sight you have!" My second thought was, "My, what a great set of lungs you have!" Better to love me with, I decided, as I held up both my arms and frantically waved back to her.
I smiled as I turned to walk toward the store, wiping away a couple of tears as I went inside.
Later, as I recalled that wonderful event, I remembered something I once read by the Italian poet, Cesare Pavese: "We do not remember days, we remember moments."
What happened that day with Chrissy was one of those moments. Unexpected, but pleasurable.