The Perfect Moment

The perfect moment does not exist. Don’t misunderstand me, I’m not a fatalist or a pessimist; I’m not, to be completely honest, even a realist.

But there is no perfect moment, and when you look at the picture objectively and you realise the truth of this phrase, believe me that you can get a good chuckle from those moments which in their impertinent moment turned perfectly imperfect.

What a laugh, that first kiss, the very first of them all, that you were given under the Italian full moon, walking by a riverside, and that with a gruesome lick that startled you to the core, sent Moon, river and Italy itself to the rubbish bin.

What a laugh, that moment when you felt so free and sat in one of the many beautiful, peaceful squares of Querétaro and began to write what your sweet soul inspired you to, when the youth team of a famous political party arrived with their noisemakers, whistles and curses towards the other party, shaking all your inspiration to the ground.

What a laugh, when you, with your BA in International Relations and your extensive knowledge of Great Britain, told the president of the UK Education Association in Mexico that one of your favourite English authors is Oscar Wilde.

What a laugh, all those kisses that you weren’t given, inspirations that never came out, and definitely, all those times you’ve made a fool of yourself – that can’t be called otherwise – that made you lose sleep for days.

What a laugh.

Wait… I think I need to take back my words. Images, beautiful images from all kinds of moments are coming to my mind. What about that moment in the ranch, while you nap in a hammock as twilight falls, with not enough light to continue reading, and you listen to your family’s voices, the ripples of laughter coming from the outdoor table where there is always food, and your sister asks about you, and your mum comes to look for you, caressing your hair, talking softly?

What about all those times of shared laughter, with those friends that you’ll always keep in your memory, with your childhood friends, with those that you had in your life for one year, or with those that are around today?

What about that moment of full conscious realisation, as you looked through the telescope lens, that the bright object you were looking at was Antares, and you felt tiny, insignificant in comparison, yet so deeply satisfied?

What joy, such perfection.

Yet, curiously enough, you are not looking for perfection during those moments. Perhaps that’s why those moments are perfect… The perfect moment is real.

~*~

Dear reader: This is a fully biographical piece which I've previously read at literary events and open mic performances. I normally don't get the reception I think it should get - mainly, because I don't think the audience realise I'm being cheeky. I blame my face for it. I don't have the best face to read or perform (or even say) cheeky things, as people tend to think that I'm being serious, or worse, that I'm worried, scared or panicking!

So, rest assured that everything written here is all real and in no way a matter of worry, but just a humorous take on personal and embarrassing experiences. Now, if you ever see me performing it, you might not quite believe that, but trust me, it's just my face. I would say that the perfect face does not exist, but who are we kidding! The perfect face does exist, it's just not mine!