To Notice

What is it that life is always saying?

Notice me, notice me, notice me.

Whispering in your ear when you hear a gaggle of friends laugh from the apartment window above you as you walk by, or when you catch the scent of your neighbors’ garden, or the sunscreen on your children’s skin.

Sometimes you experience treasure parcels of time that come in a flash and force you to notice all its beauties, the way it makes you feel.

You want to savour it.

I read once that one of the effects of dementia is that the person loses their memory of the past and their understanding and anticipation of the future.

That they live in the perpetual present.

Now I know dementia is not a goal, but imagine if you could access the freedom of living in that perpetual present.

The now.

Because when the bad really gets bad, it was all those little moments strung together that made all the difference in the end.

The notice me, notice me, notice me moments.