By Debbie Irmen, Tribune columnist

A lost kitten returned to its momma by my hands earlier this week gave me an inner glow.

It also made me think a bit.

Because I chose a different route that early morning, I heard the scared kitten’s cry. I used a door into the Tribune that I have not used before, at least not at 5 a.m.

Had I used the regular door, that kitten may not have been reunited with its mother.

Another event a couple weeks ago while I was at the Minneapolis airport reminded me fate plays with us in mysterious ways.

Boarding pass in hand, good-byes said to hubby, I walked to my gate, F7, thankful that it was close for a change. I usually have to hike miles through the airport to the furthest gate.

As I sat reading, munching my way through a small bag of Doritos, I glanced up and couldn’t believe I actually knew the woman walking rapidly to her seat.

She and I had served on the board of an organization in my hometown and when she moved away &045; she and her husband had operated a photography business for many years in the small community but longed to return to the Twin Cities &045; I wrote a column of farewell. She still comments on that piece whenever she sees me.

Coincidentally, she had been on my mind for a couple weeks, and while I’ve learned to act on such thoughts, I didn’t know how to get a hold of her anymore.

I quickly gathered my stuff together, keeping my eye on her so I could follow her to her seat and dashed after her.

I presented myself in front of her and we hugged, as we quickly exchanged business cards and travel plans &045; they were being called to board a flight to Seattle, Wash., for a vacation with family.

The entire encounter lasted less than five minutes.

I returned to my seat with fond memories of our friendship passing through my mind when I pulled my ticket from my bag and double checked my gate number &045; and realized I was at the wrong gate with only 30 minutes remaining before departure time.

Quickly collecting my stuff, I prepared myself for a mad dash across the terminal because the gate was miles from where I stood, at the furthest gate.

These two incidences reaffirmed in my mind that our days are made up of moments &045; some good, some not so good &045; which define our day, our mood, our lives.

A split-second decision to take a different route created a feel-good moment for me that carried me through the day.

A mistake in reading a boarding pass brought me in touch with someone with whom I wanted to reconnect. Sure I had a heckuva hike because of the mistake and barely made my own plane, but I saw it as a worthwhile mistake to make, as mistakes go.

Too often, with a busy schedule, we overlook these quick choices and their consequences and don’t stop to enjoy the moment. It’s sort of like taking the time to smell the roses &045; rather than move on through the event or focus on the negative aspect &045; that hike through the airport could have been my defining moment; rather I accepted it as a necessary evil to have met my long lost friend.

A question so many people ask themselves concerns their purpose in life. Our purpose in life is revealed in these moments and how we choose to handle them.

The two examples also made me think about how much our day can change in the blink of an eye.

I went from being early for work to running behind schedule because I helped the lost kitten.

Some times far more tragic changes occur &045; like the lady whose daughter and friend were killed when the mother lost control of the car and hit a tree. Her life changed in the course of about 30 seconds.

Every day, I seek events which define who I am, what I believe, my purpose. I try to take note of these moments and remember them as part of a compilation of moments which define my life.

Michael O’Donnell wrote to me this week, and rightfully poked fun of a misspelling in my column last week. I appreciated his wit, though am still blushing with embarrassment at my oversight.

&uot;I read with interest Debbie Irmen’s column on Sunday in which she describes the mental brilliance of her 3-year-old nephew, Cody.

Irmen writes, “He knows the meaning of the word ‘irradicate.’ I kid you not, he used it correctly in a sentence and everything.”

He’ll be even more brilliant when he learns to spell “eradicate.” I kid you not.&uot;

I don’t know about Cody’s brilliance, but I do know his Minnesota auntie would be more brilliant if she had used the dictionary.

Thanks for writing, Michael.

(Debbie Irmen is the Tribune’s managing editor. Her column appears Sundays.)