This morning, I ate a grapefruit in four minutes.
But that grapefruit had more than four minutes of time in it.
For one thing, it took about nine months to grow.
Before that, the tree it was on took somewhere between three and five years to root, leaf, then bear fruit.
Not to mention the time of the hands that planted, pruned, cared for that tree and those fruits on it.
So in four little minutes, I ate a fleshy piece of pink citrus that was probably over 388,000 minutes old. It was plucked from a tree that had been growing for over 1.5 million minutes. It was eaten by me, a woman made up of more than 16.8 million minutes. Who lives in a world that is the product of trillions upon trillions upon trillions of minutes.
But all these minutes go unseen by the human eye. Because what my eyes see is an unremarkable softball-sized fruit that can be eaten in four minutes.
So perhaps next time we see the ordinary or the mundane, we can take the slightest pause to acknowledge that not all that is remarkable can be seen by the human eye.