One afternoon, as she was rushing around the house in her pre-
dinner frenzy, she noticed that the sun was setting in an
explosion of fiery colors. It was as if a palette of paint
had scattered across the sky: deep twilight blue, burnt,
autumn orange and raging streaks of red. The twins were
fighting again but today, she hardly noticed their whining as
she stood in a trance by the living room window. How was it
that she had never noticed this magnificent ball of flames
descending into the mountains?
She sat down by the window with the baby in her lap. He was
usually cranky this time of day, but now he, too, was staring
out the window with his enormous, blue eyes. Like her, he
seemed to be startled by the sky unfolding before them. And
then one of the twins dropped the truck he was pulling away
from his brother and looked up at his mother.
"Ima, what are you looking at?" He asked.
"Look, the sun is setting." The twins pressed their noses
against the cool windowpane, and it was so quiet that they
could hear the soup simmering on the stove.
She looked down at the children's faces, which were
reflecting the rapidly, fading light of the afternoon sun,
and she realized how seldom she really "saw" their faces. She
seemed to move through her life in a daze of distraction,
running from one task to another as if she were in a
marathon.
Her mind was always such a jungle of trivialities; she began
to wonder when she had last thought about anything
meaningful. Now she let her mind empty itself and then filled
it with the gems of this precious moment.
The setting sun dripped into the branches of the olive tree.
The baby smelled like fresh powder; it reminded her of the
awesome potential of new beginnings. She saw awe rising in
the gray eyes of her identical twins, and for the first time,
she realized that they weren't identical after all. Chaim's
eyes were serious gray eyes flecked with gold, and Asher's
eyes were a laughing, shifting gray scattered with bits of a
deeper blue. And she smelled the soup now; she inhaled the
warmth seeping through the kitchen walls.
A prayer began to form within her as they stood at the living
room window. Let me emerge from this daily daze of
distraction. I want to "see" instead of glancing. I want to
"listen" instead of just hearing. I want to choose the
moments of my day instead of allowing them to choose
me.
The sun disappeared into the mountains. She turned away from
the window and thought: Maybe tomorrow I will notice the
sun rising. She could just see the colors in her mind:
pale, blue dawn transforming into pastel pink as the sun
climbed through the sky.
Released from the burden of distraction, her world opened up
before her. An infinite stretch of moments lay before her
— each within her grasp — waiting to be held.
