No Small Moments - August 30, 2026

No Small Moments

“At Sixty-four”

©Hubcatstide2026

When you are sixty-four, you’ve seen a lot of stuff. Fluffy stuff. Dirty stuff. The right stuff and the wrong stuff. Good stuff and downright mean stuff. You may have consumed over a thousand liters of classic coke the original formula before you gave it up cold turkey on January 14^th, 2014.

At sixty-four, you’ve slid down hot Texas slides and burned your you know what and strained every ligament in both knees skiing the blacks on Copper Mountain in Colorado. Your ligaments may have invited the loving wrath of your mom and two weeks in bed. Ying…Yang. It was worth it. That feeling as you ski alone listening to the swishing of your skis in the snow while the sun is going down. That moment remains in my top ten.

By sixty-four, you may have buried too many friends, all your siblings, and your grandparents, and your parents. One expects to have stood over the graves of their grandparents, but friends, siblings, and young children, makes you wonder if God really knows how deep the ocean is because your heart licks the bottom like a shrimp.

When you’re this many old, you’ve had inspiring teachers who saw you and woke up your gifts. And you’ve had egocentric know-it-alls whose words fell into you like Ambien. You’ve moved from a Kodak Instamatic with the square flash to a smart phone that can take videos in slow motion.  You have witnessed the airlines admit that a smoking section on an airplane was a lie and the Second Vatican stirring the up the religious pot created some good trouble leading to change, but the fish hats remain.

At sixty-four, you’ve been cut open and stitched or stapled back together for this and that and learned that the hospital has a reason for not releasing you until you’ve had a good poop. Fecal impactions are not a time to invite friends and request them to RSVP. You have also learned that once you’ve trimmed your nose hairs, that little act becomes a lifelong front seat to a growing nose theatre, especially when they’ve turned grey.

At sixty-four, you are also one hundred percent positive that every morning the sun will rise, but you’re also pretty darn positive it’s just a matter of time until she gives up the ghost.

Sometimes you would bet your life that pictures in frames, those captured moments, are alive and talking to you…wishing and hoping is a powerful thing. Your soul knows that the dark nights won’t last forever, and for some, death is a sweet release from a painful emotional and physical human journey.

At sixty-four you have learned that sugar and flour have always been sweet devils and that a cup of soup with a friend by a warm fire is better than sitting at a café in Paris eating fresh croissants with a French pressed coffee. You have also figured out that what you give always comes back to you in ways you never imagined, especially when you give out of your scarcity. You also understand that receiving is not why you give, and that somehow makes the giving holy.

At sixty-four you’ve kissed a few frogs and then kissed the one you thought would be with you until forever…whatever forever is. And reaching to the other side of the bed at 4 am to be reminded that the clean sheets were just for you takes a while to get used to. By a while, I mean, you never do, but you keep waking up and beginning again. Lines on your face are better than lines on a mirror, and you’re grateful you didn’t do that. Telling your so-called friend you didn’t have the nose for it was brilliant.

At sixty-four, if you’re lucky, you know God is real and have your own special name for Her because you’ve discovered that She has always been the Lover of your soul. You’ve hurt people and people have hurt you, but you’ve loved much more than hurt. You have also learned forgiveness is pure gold, especially when you have forgiven yourself. And with a third, maybe less, of your human journey left to experience, you know…you know that what matters the most is your family…your grown-up children growing up children of their own. And the laughter that brought tears to your eyes, snorts from your mouth, and snot from your nose is the best medicine on the planet. Laughing and crying with your family…that is heaven on earth. Those are the moments we live for. Holding hands, your child, then your grandchild asleep on your chest, making pizzas and cut out Christmas cookies together…beachcombing, board games, movie nights with popcorn, walking through a Christmas market…making brownies just because…school plays…soccer games and Sunday Night Football at your grandparent’s house when everyone is yelling at the television like it can hear them. Homemade cards…a roast in the oven, and rainy days with a puppy on your lap, curled up with a book while the voices of your loved one’s waft through the house. And friends who sit in silence with you, their love and presence louder than words…and a calling to be courageous, truth speaking, and loving at all times…yep…if you have all this at sixty-four, you have more than enough.

So, let the frogs hop away, and let the one you thought was the one leave. There’s so much more on its way. Even more than enough is coming. And that’s a lot of good stuff…it might even be fluffy and willing to trim your nose hairs when you can no longer see them.

There are no small moments.

Traci Hubbard