Moments That Choose Us

Life passes with traces of moments that linger. At night, something specific rushes through, not dread exactly, just the weight of ordinary things that never got resolved. There is no connection to anything. It feels like barriers, built to protect, to create some version of order.

Not a dream exactly, but a memory that comes and goes… I remember a sunny day. It used to be fresh in my memory. I was with a group of people, mostly my family, though I cannot remember exactly who they were.

Photo by Laura Louise Grimsley on Unsplash

This feels like a force that moves me, and sometimes I move through it. Fascinating, this reality, so many days lived, and yet this moment chooses me.

So I was watching TV, and there was this show, a scientific show for kids. It carried an experiment with cars going through a building, and we had to guess the outcome. I got bored immediately, blurted out a number, and it was correct. My instant reaction was, “That’s odd.” I looked toward somebody, and at that point the host presented a scenario: the people who were correct would live no longer than forty years.

At the time, I didn’t make much of it. It seemed just like a plain party trick. But the thing is, every time I am in a place of distress, this memory comes to me.

So when the doctor said I could have glaucoma, and that it can appear around thirty to forty years of age, I thought, surely the doctor is on it..... no.

I don’t care about the memory, not the fact of life and death. I don’t know if it’s real, even. There is no proof.

And yet, these moments raise questions I cannot ignore.
What is the line between coincidence and meaning?
How much of our fear or attention is shaped by the mind’s interpretation of past moments?

01/03/2026
Prompt: Food for Thought