He only really wanted a moment.
If only he had a moment. He thought about all the things he could do, if he had a moment. Just a brief moment. If he could have that single moment, he could stand for that moment with his eyes closed and remember and hear the sound of water as it laps against his neighbour’s boat, as they fish. He could feel the swing beneath him, as it moves him to and fro, in the park he played in as a child, taste the rhubarb tart his granny serves every time he visits with his parents, see the carpet of bluebells that wound its way beneath the trees where he walked as a boy, smell the aroma as it spills out into the street while coffee beans are ground in the shop he used to pass, hear his mother’s voice calling him to tea.
If he had such a moment as this, he could watch the gulls as they circle out over the sea at summer camp, feel the cool evening breeze as it sweeps through the garden in summer, taste the salt water, while bobbing in the sea, see the orange sky of sunset, smell the smoky wind from his neighbour’s fire, feel the fur of his cat rubbing against his bare skin, hear the crackle of lightning while he lays in his bed, taste the homemade minestrone soup his auntie makes, see the crystals forming on his bedroom window, smell the roses in his friend’s garden, feel the gentle sway of his friend’s hammock, he could hear the sound of the train’s wheels as he peers out of the window, he could look on as the dolphins jump and play in the lagoon… how they love to play.
If only he had a moment.
