At church the music echoes and reverberates, bends itself between the columns and chests rising and falling. I think: how many lives are intersecting at this very minute, but with no-one paying any heed. We all have lives to get to anyway. Times like these are only the in-betweens, this standing here and waiting are not the memories we will remember as our lives later when we are much older.
But then: are they really? If only one of the many of us broke this rhythm, a wrong note in the symphony, say if i’d spoken to the man with his head bowed into his hands two rows ahead, unseeing of any of us, or the baby in her carriage to our right, who was so young, she would not even hold this in her memory. I think of the life we miss when we think of everything but where we are at the moment. I am miles away from who I want to be, I think if we’re honest we all are. But I am here, and by some cosmic chance we all are. perhaps this is just as much miracle I can kneel here and pray for.
