In nearly 10 minutes …

A lot can happen in nearly 10 minutes.

Right before the verdict was handed down in Minneapolis today, I looked out my living room window.

Outside, I saw a man and woman walking through the park in the warm Colorado sunshine as fresh snow melted around them.

The woman stopped and bent over, placing a handprint in the remaining fresh powder.

The man stopped, bent over, and did the same.

A few minutes later, a family of three walked by. One by one they also stopped and placed their hands in the snow. They smiled. They laughed. They took a few photos.

After the family moved along, I trotted outside. I added a handprint and snapped a photo.

This all happened in about 10 minutes. I didn’t time exactly these small gestures because they were pure, and I wanted to see people smiling at such a tense time.

For about the same amount of time one day in May 2020, 9 minutes, 29 seconds to be precise, a police officer kneeled on George Floyd’s neck. The outcome was devastating to both men, their families, their community.

Last summer, I was in a different park surrounded by different people. We bent to one knee for 9 minutes, 29 seconds, and bowed our heads. Until I had done that, I did not realize precisely how long nearly 10 minutes is.

How uncomfortable it can be in the best of situations.

How agonizing it must have been in the worst.

In nearly 10 minutes today, I watched people do something lovely. Something sweet. Something silly.

A lot can happen in nearly 10 minutes. The results can shape a community, buoy someone’s spirits, end a life.

I hope to remember these snowy handprints for years to come and never forget all that can happen in nearly 10 minutes.