The Flight of the Rocketman

The best things in life aren't things. -- As texted to me by my Dad

I was at a gas station smoking outside the convenience store. It was past 12 midnight. I was sitting there and waiting for a friend to pass by. It was a Sunday night (or Monday morning, depends on the type of person you are).

The cars would drive so fast up and down Shaw Boulevard, the noise was deafening and then it was silent the next moment. It was like a pulse, a beat -- deafening roar and then silence, deafening roar then silence.

And then, for one moment, no cars passed. The convenience store was closed (not very convenient, eh?) and so there was no hiss of the neon sign. There were 2 attendants but they kept quiet, I think one was asleep with his eyes open.

For that one moment, the whole world was quiet. No moon, no stars in the sky but for some strange reason, there were no clouds either. It was just some sort of peace that pervaded for what seemed like a minute. It was so quiet, it was unnerving yet... I don't know. It was peaceful.

Then another car came rushing through Shaw Boulevard and it was back to normal. Back to reality.

Sometimes I wonder, if those beautiful moments of silence remained much longer than 5 minutes, a hole would open up beneath me and swallow me whole into some sort of oblivion.

I've been through beautiful moments of silence before. Waking up at 6 in the morning in La Union; I walked towards the beach to watch the waves. The sun was hanging limply in the air and the clouds made some sort of tapestry on the horizon, never really climbing to the height of the sky. Dogs wrestled in the sand. People sitting cross-legged, watching the waves in silence. The only sound was the waves and its rhythmic crashing upon the shore became so consistent, it almost wasn't sound. It was like movement within the body. It was so peaceful. It lasted for almost 40 minutes.

And I'm still here. But then again, I didn't want to leave and that's unusual for me because I need something to be happening. I need little reminders that I'm alive. And yet, that moment is so clear to me.

Does anyone know these feelings? These candid moments of peace?