See also: An Amber Worth Seeking

Things between myself and Red have been moving slowly. Over the past few weeks, since intentions and motives have been discussed and made clearer, we’ve been taking things one day at a time, progressing and moving forward, but at what would seem from the outside as a deliberate pace. To my eyes, at times, I would use the word glacial to describe it; but then, I’m a runner, not a walker.

Tonight, though, it became so very clear to me that there is a magic — not a parlor trick or an illusion, but a real, live, honest-to-goodness magic (spell it with a k if you wish, or even a j) — in taking a different approach than what feels natural.

I move quickly not out of a need for instant gratification per se. I’m certainly not opposed to things coming to me quickly, but I’m willing to work as much as I have to for them, to earn the good things in life. I am, however, scared of dying in the middle of something. I can’t stand the thought that I will die regretting having not done something, or completed a given project, or having not taken that chance when I had it. It’s my own version of seizing the day.

And Red has her reasons for moving slowly (perfectly valid, and flattering, down the line), and she’s wonderful about reassuring me when the unusual pacing brings up those little demon voices in my head that have such disdain for rational thought. It’s against the grain of what I’m used to, what I’ve experienced, what I am, at the core, but I have no problems finding the patience, because we’re moving forward, at whatever rate. That’s the key thing in this to me.

Tonight, driving around and listening to music, she took my hand in hers. A small moment, perhaps meaningless in any other context, something that you might glaze over with a passing glance, at best. But it took my breath away, gave me that roller coaster gut-in-my-throat feeling: her hand on mine, her skin against mine, her choice. There is a world of difference between passive acceptance and active initiation.

And in that moment, that small moment, meaningless in any other context, I saw time from the outside, as it would have been in any other context. Every other context. All the small moments sweeping past in an unmistakeable arc, rushing headlong toward the natural conclusion, unappreciated and lost to the highway behind me. But in this world, in this time: a simple gesture, tiny, something that will one day become commonplace, but in the here and now holding every bit as much awe and power as that first kiss, the first I love you, the first anything.

The moment, the small moment, trapped in amber, and in no way meaningless or lost.

When you tell yourself that you won’t be distracted by external stimuli, that you want to see and remember and capture in your mind’s eye every detail of a movie that you’ve seen before, you begin to notice so much detail, and you find it sticking this time. If you go into a movie with no special attenion, but the projector is running at one quarter speed, you being to notice little things outside the center of the frame, hidden details put there for the most intent watcher.

Combine those two, and you have the time and the attention to drink in every last drop, every subtle nuance. It’s like watching a film filtered through a perfect amber, stretching time to maximize the moment.

I still have issues with impatience, and wanting to know that if something happens to me tomorrow, I won’t regret having taken things as far as I could with Red. But I have a new point of reference now, and I can so much better appreciate that no matter what, I will always treasure the woman that taught me how to slow and stretch time in the important moments.

Watching the universe unfold as it will in hindsight makes you appreciate that Southern tradition of sitting on the front porch at sundown, no matter how hard your ADD might fight you.

If you ever fear
Someday we might lose this
Come back here
To this moment that will last
And time can go so fast
When everything’s exactly where it’s at its very best
– k’s choice, Favorite Adventure