A Moment In Eternity

 My first thought on picking this title was to laugh at the pretention. Who am I to freeze the eternal, and leave it here, obscurely, where no one but you will discover it, raise an eyebrow, and move right along, living your own succession of moments: a crescendo of little things exploding eventually into nothingness? 

Sorry I couldn’t imagine more. 

I’m at a kitchen table, not mine. I’m attending to my grandchildren, Frank aged eight, Alfie, six, who do not need me. They’re playing games on their electronic devices, very happily, interacting with their virtual worlds and with each other.

The cottage pie in the oven isn’t demanding anything of me either:I estimate I’ll not need to attend to it until I’ve finished this blog post. 

The washing is entering into its spin cycle:what’s left of this blazing day will dry it.

I’ve just noticed the tractor in the adjacent field has stopped. I caught a glimpse through the bushy laurel, it appeared to be grass cutting. I suspected earthmoving in preparation for the next acre of homes, but it appears not. Yet.

There you are, I’m finished. A perfect moment in its inanity, it’s glorious ordinariness. Looking forward, were I gifted a second moment here in fifteen years’ time, I will smile I think, as I remember an afternoon with ordinary chores in a white kitchen, in a new house, when two grown men were little boys.