The other night, I was driving to the airport, to settle down for my semi-sort-of nightly gig. My jams are playing, it’s still semi-sort-of light out (Which is a cause to celebrate for any third shift dude or dudette!), and the speed limit on the last road I take to reach the airport is 55.

I can drive 55. Especially with all the windows open and the jams playing. 55 at 56 (years) feels like 70.

Old I am getting. Say this not did you need to.

The end credit music from “Tron: Legacy” is playing, and doing it’s thumpy, trippy, synth-y magic on me, making me envision our Mercury Sable, Gracie, all decked out in neon outlines and me with a shiny disc on my back.

If you’re not up to speed on Tron, you are dead to me. If you hated Tron: Legacy, you are a zombie to me, and I will dispatch you with a blunt implement.

(No I won’t. If I scream at the sight of a spider, I sure ain’t going near any zombies. Nope. At the zombie apocalypse, I’ll be gone with the first wave. When they find out I have no brains, they’ll be very disappointed.)

Anyway, back to the car, the music, and…

The Moment.

I look to my left, where soon will appear the weather station, then the fences surrounding the Gerald R. Ford International Airport, and I see a bird. A pretty bird. A fast bird. The fairest bird of its type in the whole dang GRR airspace.

AeroMed.

The AeroMed helicopter is beautiful – sleek, fast, amazing, and has a very distinctive sound. I can hear and recognize AeroMed from quite a distance, while it’s still just a gleam in the sky. Any number of times, it’s flown right overhead as I was locking up my car before walking in to work, showing me its sleek, lovely underbelly.

Yup. Even the underside is pretty.

So here we are, crusing up the road, with Tron jamming away. And there, keeping pace to my left, AeroMed. Perfect theme song for the beautiful bird as it heads home to roost.

One of those airport moments. Not the first, not the last, but all worth noticing.

Imagine what we miss out on if we never learn to look for those little moments, recognize them, and cherish them. They just blast by, lost in the static of everything that vies for our attention. They’re small, these moments, usually quiet, many times personal, and (at least in my addled head…) ring with a gentle chime. Sometimes they are beautiful, sometimes heart wrenching, sometimes very funny. But all tiny, and easily missed if we don’t keep our eyes (and hearts) open.

The road, the jams, the bird.

One of those moments.