September, the 28th. Riverfire Night, my last.

A moment was unfolding right before me. The spectacle of a night I told myself I would trade my nights for. A year-long wait now a minute away, the closest I’ve ever gotten to see it.

I would have liked for this to be it: the defining moment. The one I’d been hoping for. And that I’d be the person I was hoping to be by it.

But here is a moment, come unfolded before me: the night sky alight with the explosion of coloured embers; the whole city amassed at its feet as they have been for hours just to celebrate this. Here is a moment, us sitting in the grass, picnic mats our cushion, the coveted front seats on the stretch of the river bank, one of the best views of the night then ours for the taking. Here is a moment, a girl, enchanted, eyes glistening, heart racing, looking up to the celebrated of the celebration and witnessing, in its unfolding, the wonders of a moment.

And how, in the entirety of this one here, nothing is like what I had hoped for it to be.

I am still not the person I had hoped to be by it.

And then the moment passes.

Hushed. Breaths held in its wake before the applause comes in; the audience a riot of laughter and conversations while they shift in place, hustling and packing - all this the commotion of slipping back in to life as is.

And it is these moments that become unfolded: starkly different, in the face of what had once been. Nothing so definitive about them. Ephemeral. Mundane, even.

And yet we fall into the motions of it all the same. Letting ourselves be carried by them - moment by moment by moment. Clumsily, sometimes, with a tumble and a rush to get to the other side. But otherwise with a leap. A fearless leap; a jump taken just to be embraced in the depths of it all.

I would like for it to always be the latter.

To look at each moment before the fall and want to jump in. To be in the front seat watching the spectacle of them as they happen - the defining and the mundane. To be carried in the depths of the many wonders of each and every moment right as they come unfolding before me.

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this is the fourth Riverfire Night I had the opportunity to witness. I had written two different accounts of my experience with Riverfire night for two years in a row now. this being my last one, I felt like I owed it to myself to make the most out of the experience. so I wrote a third.

but the night (and the day leading up to it) didn't live up to my expectations - I didn't live up to my expectations. writing about it was much harder than I thought it'd be: it took me a while to come to a place where I could look to the experience and find something meaningful to write from it. a few other things I thought would also be momentous happened within that time frame - all of which did not turn out the way I had hoped. but funnily enough? I was okay with that. I was more than okay, actually. I was content with the experiences I had as they were. I was content that I was present and living in the moment of them happening, rather than just letting them pass me by just because I was wanting more from them than what they had to offer.

and maybe that's all I need sometimes: to be able to live in the moment as it is even if it might not be going the way I want it to. to let myself be present in the seemingly small moments for the sake of actively participating in my life. I might not look back to the big events in my life in the same exact way I had hoped for them to turn out but I would like to have something to look back to all the same. that can be enough for me, over not having something to look back to at all. so this is how I hope to move forward: embracing each moment as they come and as they are.

speaking of what it means to embrace each moment that comes by, big or small, christy's video hits the mark exactly. she shares the sentiment and expresses it beautifully in her video.

How about you? When experiences don't turn out the way you had hoped, how do you best move forward?

With love, Iween

🎕