The hours between things
A small thought about the unremarkable hours that quietly become most of a life.
thoughts
I used to think a memorable life was made mostly from important days. Birthdays. Arrivals. Finish lines. The moments with a clear before and after.
The unnamed hours
Lately, I have been thinking about everything between them: waiting for tea to cool, walking the same road home, hearing a friend laugh from the next room. These hours rarely announce themselves, yet they become most of what a life contains.
Perhaps paying attention is its own form of keeping.