Life is made up of moments. Many small moments. Those who say that we need to focus on the bigger picture forget that it is made up of many individual strokes. A symphony is composed of many different notes, many different instruments. It is how life becomes worth living. Those small things that make you smile, that make you cry, that make you angry, that make life.
You look at me and tell me they don’t matter. That I should stop caring.That those tickets I collect are just papers. That the notes I keep are scraps of nothing. That the bills I keep are a waste of space.
I tell you that they are memories. Of a time I want to remember. A time I’m afraid I’ll forget. That ticket from a show we went to. The bill from our first real date. The scrap of paper you drew a smiley on because you were bored in class. They hold with them a time that we shared together, you and I.
The photographs I store, carry with them smiles frozen in time. They tell stories of times when we posed, carefree and smiling. They tell of the friends we made and the stupid jokes we told. Those candid shots tell me of people I will hold and cherish for the rest of my life. They tell me of my childhood. Of things I did when I was a child. They tell me what my mother looked like when she was my age. They tell of things past, but things which matter.
These small things, small moments have made me the person I am. They have defined me for who I have become. The way I talk, the way I dress, the way I do the things I do; all built moment by moment, memory by memory, relationship by relationship.
It is these moments I share with you that make me love you all over again. That make me wonder why we have stuck with each other so long. Why we matter to each other so much. The times you come to me seeking advice on something you wrote. The times you seek me out because you did something stupid and wanted to make me laugh. The times you put your hand out while we crossed the road even though I could cross it by myself. The times you send me a message just to say you love me. The times you caught my eye in class and smiled. Those are the times I remember.
However, those are also the moments that scare me the most. The questions and fears about where life will take us. How much I depend on you. The questions about what I have become and let go of to make you part of my life. The doubts about whether I really matter, whether you really care. The fear of losing myself so completely that I will never be the same again.
These are the moments that have made my life. So, don’t tell me that they don’t matter. Don’t tell me that they are trivial and inconsequential. Keep your big picture, your symphony, and I’ll treasure the brush strokes, the notes, the pictures, the moments. The small things.
Ayesha Sruti Ahmed