“Don’t move!” I told her.

The sun shines through the west window for a short time each late afternoon, hitting a narrow sliver of wall half way between the dining room and living room. Sometimes I move the dining room chair and sit in that small sliver, if only for a short time and let the sun soak into my face, eyes closed.

She was walking from the living room to the dining room and paused just a moment and I happen to look over at that moment and I told her Don’t move because I wanted to capture the sun on her blue hair.  One moment more either way and I would have missed it.

How many moments like that have we missed because we’re too busy walking or talking or cleaning or doing?  The sun follows the same path every day. It isn’t the sun that changes, it is I. I don’t want to miss what the sun lights.