The very best moments

If you had to name one–and only one–moment in your life that was your “very best,” what would it be?
Could you honestly do that?
I thought I could. I even picked “that one time when . . .” and gave it due credence. But then right in behind it, another good memory vying for best flowed in on the breeze of my many gratitudes.
Homemade macaroni and cheese can move me. It can move me to swoon, time and time again, over the very best moment when the warm cheesy gobs oozing over the spoon reach the palate and drown the senses in comfort and carbs.
I recently was reminded never to underestimate the power of a dinner invite to a meal prepared with love for the purpose of conversation and appreciation that includes my homemade macaroni and cheese.
“It can be refuge in a digital, confusing, pressure-cooked world.”
Homemade macaroni and cheese? Yes, indeed, spoonfuls of it (especially the ones snuck from the dish of leftovers) can create some of the very best moments.
Slipping under the flannel sheets of my bed on a cold winter’s night after the electric blanket has been turned on–no question one of the very best moments of my day.
I keep a diary. I’ve been doing that since I was 11 years old. Sure, I’ve missed a time or two here and there, and yet I always return to the page where some of the very best moments are the ones I write in permanent ink.
I watched my first granddaughter delivered through my daughter’s Caesarean section. I laid my eyes on that living miracle in the moment before she was touched by a doctor’s hand about to deliver her from the womb into the world.
It was a remarkable best moment.
Facing the church congregation as I said my wedding vows, when once upon a time I was married, that, too, a very best moment–even though it is long since gone into the history books.
A photograph that hangs on my living room wall captures the happy moment on a playground slide in the mid-1990s, when my three daughters, then “Littles,” smiled back at me. Oh, so very much a best moment.
Holding hands in the night with my special someone while we sleep–my favourite best moment. Listening to snow melt off my roof, watching my cats play, and checking my bank account when it’s not in overdraft. Oh my, those make the list, too.
Seeing my father today, at 90, healthy and wise, smile back at me from across the kitchen table, during that meal prepared with love by my mother for the purpose of conversation and appreciation of family. We were there–a very best moment.
If you had to name one–and only one–moment in your life that was your “very best,” what would it be? Could you honestly do that?
I hope not.

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