Moment | Laura Platt

It had been a while since I had thought of him more than in passing reference. It had hurt for what seemed like ages not to be with him, but I had moved on, to the point that he held little prominence in my heart. It had been my choice to block him out of my mind. It was odd how staring at the computer, a list of documents peering back was what induced me to think of him. The soft click of fingers over the surrounding keyboards was my only serenade for this moment. My short papers from that particular class, carefully saved, reminded me of the day I met him there. It was not the fond memories I dwelt on. I was there for one purpose, to delete. Delete the assignments, the memory of him, and delete the last portion of him I still clung to. There was a slight pang every time I okayed the erase. Three, then two, then one disappeared. I hesitated. Then they were gone--he was gone. The laughs, the experience, the pain, and the connection dissipated and I was left to redirect my attention indefinitely.

Moment | J.D. Olenslager

I suppose that many strange moments hinge on Jesus. There are the obvious places, churches, Jerusalem, obits, buth the craziest place I saw Jesus was a SLC rest home. I'd spent the better part of the day beating the streets trying to find a place to live when I came across him. There was a rest home near the college. It had air-conditioning. My legs were throbbing. (Nothing more needs to be said.) He stood by the drinking fountain and was reading the obituaries pasted to the glass window with Scotch Tape. He wasn't typically dressed, blue jeans, pocket-T, you know, but he did have the beard. And he never turned away from the faces of the dead that were taped there. It was the strangest thing I've seen in a long time.

Moment | Josh L. Fowkes

I was calmly exhausted. Taking a nap to refresh for a nights wake-up call of crying from the beloved daughter. Turning out the eyelids to check out the dreams I woke with a sweet smell in my face. It was the milk breath of my baby girl. I didn't want her to notice that I had awaken so sneakingly opened up the left eye just in time to see her mouth wide open. She gently kissed me right on the lips. One was not enough but the second left the impression.
For one and half years she has been a part of my life. Nothing so valuable to me than her mother and she. I realize that love is a feeling of joy and nothing short of a good nights sleep.

Moment | Chelsea Campbell

Two old men sit on a college campus reading a college newspaper, remarking on today's youth. "Now how about that!" The one in the sweater vest states, resolutly slapping his arthritic finger against the pulpy page. They bounce between topics that most old men discuss; the weather, real estate, and young people. They jump on their soap boxes occasionally, too. "Get a haircut!" and "You think THAT's profanity?!" They then end with casual offhand remarks like: "Those kids are really keepin' me in line."

Moment | Stevie Smart

"Well, I really should go," I said for the fifth or sixth time. Every time, the conversation had just kept going. There was so much to catch up on, so much had changed in both of our lives. "Yeah, I have to go to work tomorrow morning," she admitted, "but I'll call you. We say that every time, but I really will call you, like Satruday or something." "Yeah, we need to keep in touch," I said. The time approached one in the morning when we finally said goodbye. Wow, things have changed so much, but not between us. We could still stay up talking just like we used to do at our sleepovers. It had been months since I had talked to her, but we would never be strangers. All of the years we spent growing up together could not be erased by our lives going separate ways, and it could all be remembered, and renewed, in one conversation over the phone.

Moment | Sara Denson

I had just missed it. It was probably the most massive tumbleweed to have ever crossed my car’s path. What would I have done? Would it have scratched my car or caused any other damage I wouldn’t know how to handle? All I could think about was my dad scolding me for speeding that day. “You have to slow down, Sara. It’s crazy to go 80 on the interstate!” Of course I snickered at my old man’s getting older. But, to be free of a guilty conscience, I slowed down to 75 mph that night returning to Cedar City. For some reason, when that beast of a weed blew passed my car, my mind stopped and presented two important observations only a scare could prompt. Maybe I’m not as cool and invincible as I think. Maybe dad does know what's best for me. Both lessons are inevitable yet painfully hard to accept. The rest of the ride home I slowed down even more, just to be safe and think about that moment.

Moment | Amy Loveless

It's funny how tired I am each morning. You'd think my poor brain, sleep deprived though it is, would learn to cope with my crazy schedule, but alas, it did not. I woke late yesterday morning, leaving myself only about ten minutes to dress, eat, and dash to the music building. Unfortunately, my legs refused to dash. In the five minutes it took me to speed-walk from my bedroom in Juniper hall, it occurred to me that I should look up.

The morning air was clear and crisp, and for a moment, all sleepiness was forgotten in the sight I beheld. The sun, which had not yet risen, cast no shadows, but highlighted the clouds on either horizon with a painter's precision and soft detail. The moon, which hung above Juniper, was a grinning cheshire crescent, threatened in the far distance by those purplish clouds, yet firm in her stance to hold the day back as long as possible.

I looked back towards the world below, amazed at the silvery light in this moment between light and dark that so often I missed. For just that moment, everything around me in the world below seemed somewhat ethereal and beautiful. In that moment, my heart murmured it's agreement. I had found peace.

A pang of reality struck through me as I neared the Music building. The half-hour bell had chimed, and my peace was shattered. It exsisted only as a memory, faint and beautiful as the dream it almost was.

Moment | Sara Staheli

It took all of four seconds to figure out I'd been dreaming. It hadn't been real. But what's real, anyway? Is it what I see and touch, or what I feel? I wasn't sad enough to cry or even to consider it. The streetlight through my blinds made very linear designs on my bedsheets. I was there, I know I was there. And you were with me. And now ... what? The light on my sheets? My blue pillow? My roommate sleeping six feet away? I remembered that in the daytime, I'm actually pretty happy. I love everything about everything, even my lack of you. So how come not at night? I retraced the broad outlines of the dream - the tornadoes, the kiss, the tone of your voice. And then I wished for morning.

Moment | Matthew Clegg

Today as I was sitting in my voice studio class, awaiting my turn to sing and be ripped to shreds by the teacher, I saw a spider. A very ordinary looking black spider with no incriminating markings that would give me any cause whatsoever to squish it...but I'm terrified of spiders. It is not often that I don't immediatly kill a spider after seeing one, but for some reason I stopped myself this time. I don't have any clue as to what it was that prevented it's demise. All I know is that in that moment I felt like it's protector. Protecting it from myself, but protecting it nonetheless. In that small space of time I admired it. I saw traces of myself in it. The best of which manifesting itself when the spider ran in fear for the nearest wall, and away from vulnerability.

Moment | Jeni Cannon

I sat in the ICU, following the lines of the heartbeats on the monitor with my eyes. Was this really happening? I swear it was someone else's family in that room--- that I wasn't really there and this whole scene wasn't happening. A nurse knocked on the door, and wheeled in a food cart. After the nurse left, my mom explained that they only bring a food cart in when people are dying. Then it hit me again. My dad is dying. So why do I seem to keep forgetting that fact? My brain seemes to be operating on a defense mechanism: forget anything painful. I pick out a cookie from the cart, and in that moment, everything clicked --- my mom, stashing snacks from the cart into her purse; my sister, quietly knitting rows on the new scarf she was making--- this is my family. My dad may not live to see my accomplishments or be there when I graduate college, but that doesn't mean I can't do great things. I'll do them for him.

Moment | Gregory Burbank

Here it is then, another hour before me. Not just any hour, but a golden hour of freedom and uncertainty. I walk towards the library and the world is enlarged -- filled with this moment, a sense of itself. There is so much to do in the next hour, no, I will not think about that. It is my hour, my choice; I will do as I please. The possibilities make me giddy. This hour I treasure above all others, where my schedule is dictated to me. Is there anything more sublime than this -- another hour of freedom, another moment of cognizance?

Hundreds of Human Ants/James L. Buie

As I was walking to my next class I saw the hundreds of human ants walking around concentrated on getting to their ant hill. They were at a face pace not able to see the things around them nor the other people walking beside them. Occasionally I would hear, "How you doing?" Then they would walk right passed you not caring what you said. I bet it would been hard for them to ponder how beautiful the snow was or to see a homeless person who is freezing to death. They might of seen him but they wouldn't of wanted to slow down their pace and make themselves late according to the clock of the world. Before I was one of these ants rushing from class to class. Oneday I was walking so fast because I was going to be late to an English class. As I was walking to the English building, I saw this paralized young lady in a wheelchair strolling the same path I was headed down. "Do I stop and talk to her" I asked myself. Something said in me yes. She was so happy that I talked to her. It made me happy to. I am no longer an busy body ant but an observant warrior to society.

Moment | Nikaela Aitken

My arms pump, synchronized with my feet which are pounding feathers that penetrate the silence that hovers. This mute escape is only known to those who dare live before the sun, those vigorous before the masses hit their snooze. My lips, intensely petrified, sting from the polar air. I look like an owl ready to hoot, sucking in through a rounded slit, barley audible. I breathe out a mix of air and fear and thought punctuated methodically in slow stabs that make their presence known by floating puffs of white-tinted transparency. Hammering, from my iPod, resonates my eardrums scaring away my own fears, and most thoughts. Only a few thoughts are able to bore through the wall of noise, speared on by the burning ache that has began to wrestle my body. I smile as my heart, pounding, echoes the repetitious pulsation of my arms my feet my ears- this throbbing is what I thrive on. One more mile. One more block. One more step.

Moment | Mary Cox

After having taken several minutes to prepare for the day, I stood there looking in the mirror and decided that the outfit needed one final touch, of what I didn't know. Upon going back to my room I spoted an old cowboy hat and a pair of boots. The hat being black with green flames on the side and the bootes gold in color, I decided to slip them on. They seemed to add a kind of country but yet girly atmosphere to the whole look. With satisfaction, I pulled on my back pack and headed out the door. Feeling a little self-concious at first, thinking for a moment that the cowgirl look would probably scare most people away, hinting to them that I am some hic trying to impersinate a real cowgirl. I quieted that worry with a simple, "Hey, if they don't like my look well, than that's too bad for them." In my first class I encountered a few weird looks but simply ignored them. Now I headed off to my psycholgy class figuring that it would probably be worse than the first one. Thinking, as I walked, of the boy I would sit next too, but I had not yet gotten up enough courage to talk to him. I figured that once he saw the hat, he would probably never give me a chance. He seemed way out of my league any way and even if he wasn't, I would probably never be able to muster the guts it would take me to talk to him, but I went ahead and decided to sit in my usuall spot. I walked in the classroom and did just that, I sat next to that boy, who seemed way above me. And as I did, he turned to me and said "That's an awesome hat."

Moment | Jennifer Belliston

It had been a hectic day. Since 7:00 a.m. I had been running around in meaningless circles, catering to the whims of those around me. Finally, it was time to go home and I tried to relax as I meandered the short distance to my apartment. Upon my arrival, I promptly inserted the fantastic CD of upbeat piano recordings that I had purchased the week before. While my instant dinner warmed on the stove I shuffled to my room and hurled the deadweight of my backpack toward my bed like handcuffed athlete hurls a 200 pound discus. I returned downstairs, shoveled a mountain of creamy macaroni and cheese onto my plate, grabbed a cup of tepid tap water and sat down at the table. Ravenously, I excavated a large cavern in my oozing mountain and settled back to the sweet task of enjoyment. Sitting there, with my eyes partially closed, I realized that I was alone. My roommates were absent leaving a sweet aura of solitude lurking in every corner of the house. The girls next door had already left for their nightly man seducing rituals. The neighborhood cars sat in frozen silence. I was alone; completely alone. Finally.

Moment | Trent Gurney

He closed the door behind him. It was cold, but that wouldn't stop him. He stared at it. The scooter lay lifeless at the bottom of the driveway, twisted like the body of some gruesome crime scene. The boy cringed, but told himself he must go on. He could still taste the dirt he had swallowed only hours before on his last attempt. Not this time-this time would be different. He could do it, he knew he could. Making his way to the scooter, he felt as if the wind were whispering to him, filling him with self doubt. Ignoring it, he quickly nursed his trusty steed back to life and walked it to the top of the driveway. As he mounted, he shot a quick glance back at the house to make sure mom wasn't watching again. He didn't need her to watch, because this time he was not going to fall. There he stood, ready for battle. The driveway lay before him, the small dirt hill at the bottom calling him on, waiting for him like a vulture, eager, ready to pounce at the first sign of weakness. You won't get me this time, he thought and with that he pushed off and started down the driveway. The wind grew stronger and louder until it was impossible to ignore, screaming at him to stop, that he'd never make it. He needed more speed. He gave himself one last thrusting kick and prepared himself for the hill. He reached it sooner than he thought and wasn't quite ready. He begins to lose his balance, while falling he glances desperately at the window to see mom hiding behind the curtain. As he hits the ground dust flies everywhere, the wind carries it away, while silently saying "I told you so." The boy lay motionless, bewildered, wondering if he would ever get that taste of dirt out of his mouth.

Moment | Tyler Montgomery

I was going to print my essay for Eng2020, so I pu in one of my three USB ports. Aftrer searching the contents and not finding my essay I repeated the process with my other two ports and again couldn't find my essay. At this point I started to worry. I knew I hadn't saved it to my parent's computer but I checked anyway. No luck. I said my first of many prayers! I remembered that I'd been deleting old files off my USB ports two days earlier and just knew I had deleted my paper accidently. I started frantically using every bit of computer knowledge I had to see if I could find my delted essay. At this point my wife called and she shared in my lamentation. She also asked if I'd prayed, I said of course, but I'm not going to find it. In total despair I prayed a final time saying I know I shouldn't peay for help and be pestimistic, but it's hard not to. I searched my USB ports a last time, and opened a random file I hadn't before, and there, mistitled was my Essay.

Moment | Kyle Branin

I stumble up the last few inches of the hill, just a few steps behind the girl, and stop short, just a few seconds after her. We're both looking at the last few feet of our daily 6 a.m. trudge to work. Neither of us like the cold, neither of us like the snow. But sometimes, there are moments. This was one of them. Spread out in front of us are just a few yards of fresh, unspoiled snow. It's only a couple of inches deep, but it's enough to hide all of the features of the lawn and sidewalk. It is beautiful. A layer of sparkling white, catching the moon and the streetlights, and throwing it back at me in a thousand pieces. A smooth, untrodden, layer of cold. A layer of sleep, beneath which the grass, the earth, even the bugs, all prepare for their next great stab at life. I start to realize, for the thousandth time, just how much you can see in a moment, in one brief snap shot of this life, but my thoughts are interrupted by the voice of the girl next to me, he beauty on par with that of the snow "It's almost fuzzy, and it sparkles." I crack a smile and say what it starting to enter both our minds by that time "But it's so cold." And then we enjoy the sadistic pleasure of being the first to tread upon this blanket of snow, this art of mother earth.

Moment | Brett Oberhelman

...THE BALANCE POINT...

The balance point is the perfect moment when drinking (more often than not whiskey), where inebriation meets happiness. It's brief usually, but usually you're lucky if you even get it. I am knee deep into a large bottle of whiskey at my friends house, they let me use their computer so I can check my myspace, a dull and meaningless thing to do, especially when everyone else is smoking cigarettes and laughing and listening to TOOL's first album. I can hear it from the room while I'm replying to a message from my friend this girl, I reach over to my side and slide in a cd I brought with me to the house, Smashing Pumpkins. It's a typically depressing cd to listen to, especially when you're drinking, but then just as I put on my favorite song ("1979") an instant message appears across the screen and it's her. We start talking, apparently she'd been drinking a bit too and we found ourselves laughing and smiling with eachother over cyber space, "1979" slowly faded into "Tonight Tonight." I ask her "What music are you listening to?" She says she's listening the exact same cd, it's making me exstatic, and pretty soon I reach the balance point. She says that she wants her wedding song to be "3 Libras" and that when she goes bowling she listens to SlipknoT. At this very moment, my chest and face hurts from laughing and smiling. At this exact moment I am likely either very drunk or very happy, I would like to think both. I wish she was here, I love the balance point...

Moment | Faye Phillips

Driving into the already crowded parking lot, my hope for a good day faded away. My shift would start in ten minutes. The first day I'd be at work would start at the same time. Nervousness over took me as I sat in the explorer, thinking of everything I could do to postpone that second I would walk through that door. Staring at the clock, I wished it wouldn't move those last few minutes, but the pasing of time is inevitable. Finally I had to step out of the safety of the vehicle, pausing to brush off my green shirt and straitened the matching hat. Taking in a deep breath, I sighed, hoping for the best. Double clicking the lock button on the keychain an alarming honk sounded, making me jump even though I knew it was going to make that noise. A few more steps utill I would be in there. Grasping the handle, I couldn’t wait long before opening the door, a few people coming up behind me wanted to go in and order something. Never keep the customer waiting. The warm air flooded out as I held the door open, bringing with it the smell of fresh bread and double chocolate-chip cookies. It was inviting, feeling as if the cookie was already melting in my mouth. That was all I needed to put a smile on my face and go for it. With all my worries blown aside, I charged in with newfound courage and confidence.

Moment | Katherine Goodell

Able to Marvel

The snow falls while I am reading C.S. Lewis's novel The Screwtape Letters. I am astounded by the idea that nearly every aspect in "the patient's" life is being twisted into numerous tragic flaws. His love becomes materialized, his charity becomes arrogance, and his faith becomes social position. The crafty Screwtape contorts this man's morality in to such a tight knot that the patient gives up on trying to unravel that devil's reasoning. The patient begins to view the world only as a physical world. A place where all forms of enjoyment are squelched by real world sufferring. His appetite and his pain holds more weight to his existence than his ablility to observe beauty. And if he feels a glimpse of something marvelous, he tells himself that there is "no such thing." No such thing as anything sublime. Numb to the sensation of peace or enjyoment. He is unable to marvel at the snow's quiet white.

Moment | Liz Pascoe

Had I been blessed with graceful legs, I would not have been so focused on the slippery sidewalk as I a made my way across campus. I was headed for an audition and had worn high heeled shoes to look presentable, and prevent my nervous knees from knocking. These shoes had minimal tread and so shuffling across the icy terrain seemed a safer option than actually walking to the theatre. My eyes were fixed to the ground scanning for any hazardous glistening. The silence of the winter night was deafening and all I cared to listen to was the rough skid of heel on ice. As I skidded to a halt at the crosswalk I looked up from my frozen glare to the far end of the street. For a moment everything stopped. At the crest of the street's hill, red and blue lights wailed and splattered onto a couple cars wedged into the gutter. Ice and broken glass created a shimmering silhouette for half a dozen people surrounding the cars. Through the clear darkness I could recognize that the only thing to have sustained injury in this accident had been the cars. Jack Frost had been the culprit of this fender-bender. Before continuing to the theatre I decided to respect the incident and change my shoes.

Moment| Stacie Morris

I sat in our red Chevy Blazer with a pile of mail on my lap. The sun came in through the windows heating the air around me. I watched my husband walk toward the apartments that my family owned. I could see that the chill of the air outside was creeping through his clothes. He pulled his arms close to his body as if this single action would ward off the on coming breeze. As he walked into the apartments I glanced down at the pile of mail I held. I began to shuffle through the small stack and watched as the bills and junk mail flipped past my eyes. As I neared the end of the pile a return address caught my attention. I opened the envelope slowly, expecting the usual advertisement, and pulled the mass of papers out. It seemed as if the envelope had exploded on my lap as flyers and instructions slipped out of my grip. Then with a wave of excitement I saw what I dared not hope for, my very first credit card. I pulled the paper it was attached to closer to me and watched in awe as the card reflected the road behind the Blazer. I quickly ripped the card from the adhesive, which attached it to the paper. There are the bottom of the blue shinny plastic was my name. Excitement turned to pride as it realized that I had actually qualified for this card. As my husband briskly walked back to the Blazer another realization struck me and it was more bitter, this card, this wonderful piece of plastic, would inevitably turn into another bill.

Moment | Jeremy Stensrud

I was walking to the campus library the other day in the snow. I love snow, and it was snowing big flakes. The campus was real quiet, and there was hardly anyone around. I thought to myself, "This is why I like winter. For moments like these."

I began to look to the sky and pick out a snowflake up high and then try to catch it. They of course move all around, and sometimes you have to adjust quite a bit to end up beneath it. So, I would catch them, look at them, watch them melt, and then look for a new one to catch. I did it about four times, before I realized what I was doing. I looked to see if anyone had been watching me. There was a person walking toward me who had just exited the library, and three or four others walking on the sidewalk perpendicular to mine. No one had noticed me that I could tell. I then looked around thinking that there might be a girl walking around doing the same thing. We could then catch each other doing the same thing, laugh at each other, find out how much we had in common, and live happily ever after.

I didn't see one, so I entered the library telling myself I didn't live in a book, and making fun of myself for thinking such funny things.

MOMENT | Ashlee Lyman

The air was brisk this morning. I stepped out into it and my breath drew back into me hiding from the painful cold. The sun was just starting to bleed over the hills as I started walking up the driveway to take my trash to the dumpster. While looking down at my feet to avoid stepping in wet potholes I heard the slushy footsteps of someone coming towards me. I looked up. A man in shorts and a shirt too large for his frail body was rushing towards me. He had something in his hands that I couldn't quite make out or understand. As he closed in I noticed he was missing his teeth. There were a few white peaks in there but they were hiding behind his uncombed beard and his loose flapping lips.
I was hoping to avoid conversation but he walked right up to me in the brisk morning air and asked me,
"Do you know how to fillet a fish. I caught the nicest brookie!" he swung it around in my face. The smell was sour and of fishy death. He continued, "When it came out of the water all you could see was the red belly and the humped head."
I turned my head away from his fish and said, "Yes that is a nice fish. I don't eat fish, but that is a beautiful one."
"Do you know who can fillet a fish?" he asked.
Shaking my head I replied,
"No. I don't." and I turned to walk, indicating that the conversation was over.
He rushed passed me down the street and I stopped and turned with the white trash bag in my hand. I watched him walk away, his loose shorts swishing back and forth and his hair, long and stiff with the cold, was not moving. One of his socks was lower than the other one. I thought to myself, "He should fix his socks." and I turned back up the street to the dumpster wondering where he caught his fish so early on a January morning.