The elusive now

I am forever seeking, chasing, grasping the elusive now, only to find it constantly slipping away. I want it, but in the wanting I lose it; I find it, but lose it in the recognition. In writing about it I only crystallise its absence, tracing the shape of a hole.

That is the gift others give me: a moment of calm, a moment of excitement, a moment of joy--the moment of the elusive now. I cannot hold it on my own; there is always too much to do, too much to plan, too much to worry about.

If I could express what a relationship is to me, it is a fixed point in time. It is a chain linking me to my past. It is the knowledge that there is something outside of me, and that it is more important than I am. And in that act of selflessness, I gain everything. My senses leap to life, the past and future disappear, and I am in the elusive now.

It won't last; I wouldn't want it to. There is too much to do, too much to plan, too much to consider. But it is enough to know that while I can't catch the elusive now, at any moment someone, anyone, may give it to me.