A Single Moment

“There’s only one thing more precious than our time and that’s who we spend it on.”

-Leo Christopher

We’re all just trying to live our lives.  We’re trying our best. I never really understood, though, how short life was.  How quickly things change.

It only took a second.  The brakes locked, the car spun, and the truck t-boned her little red car. 

That single moment tore her family apart.  It changed my life forever. 

Before I attended the funeral of my best friend I rarely thought about death.  Ever since then, it’s been constantly on my mind; in my nightmares, in every waking thought.

Life seems to go on so long while you’re living it.  Every day I would wake up, get ready and drive to school. Each class dragged into the next, and the day never seemed to end. Eventually the bell would ring and I’d go back home. I’d do my homework and spend the evening watching a show or texting a friend. I’d stay up too late, drift off to sleep, wake up and repeat. Every day. Every day. Week after week. 

I find it fascinating how long life can be, and yet, how short it is. You turn your head and the sunset melts into dusk. You blink, and the shooting star has disappeared into the eternities. You say goodbye to her at school and when you wake up the next morning, she’s gone. You won’t ever see her again. Suddenly, everything seems to have happened too fast. 

I guess all I’m saying is that moments matter. Not just in the dark and dreary way, when you realize it only took a second for her heart to stop, but in good ways too. 

I mean, in one moment, I can decide to change my life. I can stop eating meat, start running, write the first sentence of a best-selling novel, or learn how to speak a different language. I can forgive people I’ve been angry at, tell someone how much I love them, or say hello to someone I’ve never met before. 

Those aren’t big things in the moment, but they can become big things. Besides, it seems to me that the little moments end up mattering the most.

We were both in theatre together. We met at auditions for the next year’s musical. She was going to a different school at the time, but was planning on transferring for her sophomore year and she wanted to be in the musical. Everyone at the audition knew everyone else, except for her. She walked in alone, wearing her current school’s uniform. She seemed so small and lonely standing there on the stage, waiting to be called in for her audition, so I said hello. 

Just hello. 

She smiled at me, “Hi,” she said.

We introduced ourselves and then she got called in. She left, and a couple weeks later, the school year ended. Summer stretched on and eventually school started again. She had gotten into the show and was in my class. I quickly realized we would be best friends. 

And it all started in a second. How incredible is that? It didn’t take me more than a minute to smile at her and say hello, but that was how we met. That one moment stretched into years of friendship.

And those years of friendship?

They were made of little moments, too. 

Moments of laughter and tears, of joy and heartbreak. Moments when she smiled at me, and I smiled back. Moments when she walked out of class crying and wouldn’t tell me who caused it. And it all ended in a moment, too. Moment after moment, turned into memories. 

A moment she loved were the minutes just before the sun set beyond the mountains. The sky would suddenly become bathed in color and light and she’d stare at it. When I first met her, she used to take pictures. She’d send them to me, apologizing for the way the pictures would never quite capture the stunning scene. Eventually she stopped taking pictures. At first, I thought she had lost her fascination with the evening sky, but one afternoon we went hiking together. We reached the parking lot as the day faded into dusk. She walked over to the rails and watched the sky in rapt awe. I asked her why she never took pictures anymore. 

Without looking at me, she whispered, “I realized how fast the sunset fades. It’s gone so quickly, and I want to spend that time watching it, not trying to capture it.” The sun sank below the horizon and she turned to face me. “Don’t you think saying goodbye is a beautiful thing? Sad, yes, but beautiful. If the sky was streaked in color forever it wouldn't be quite as amazing, don't you think? I mean, part of the experience comes from knowing it will be gone." 

I wonder if that's the same for people. If people lived forever would we appreciate them less? Does part of their beauty come from the knowledge that one day they'll grow old and leave this world behind?

She smiled at me, "I'm probably not making very much sense."

"No, I get it," I said. I leaned up against the railing and stared out at the valley. She shivered and grinned, bumping my shoulder with hers.

"Isn't it crazy to think about how many people are inside right now, not even realizing how brilliantly the sky lit up tonight?"

"Yeah," I whispered, "Have you ever thought about how long it must've taken for everything to form? To be created, to evolve? It doesn't matter what you believe, it is all so beautiful. From a snowflake to a sunset. Life could've been so grey and bland and we'd all still be alive, but instead it's so beautiful," I looked at her and smiled. 

"And it might as well be grey and bland as far as some people are concerned," she added, "if they don't take the time to admire the beauty, you know?"

I nodded and we stood there in comfortable silence.
We had conversations like that a lot. I felt comfortable talking to her about things I wouldn't discuss with anyone else. Maybe it was partially because of the way she just listened, but I think part of it was because she believed in moments. 

*

I think, for me, the coolest concept behind a life crafted of moments is that you don't have to wait. You hold your future in the palm of your hand, and it's made of moments, like a castle made of Lego blocks. You have the power to move the blocks, or to pick a different color, and those choices are going to determine what your castle looks like in the end. It's not one big thing that's all together, made to sit still and look pretty. It's an ongoing process of building and changing.

She seemed to grasp this concept better than I ever did. 

One day, she called me before she went on her run. Without any introduction she said, "You don't run, right?" I could hear the excited fervor in her voice and my heart sank.

"No."

"Well guess what?"

"What?

"I'm going to pick you up in ten minutes and you're going jogging with me. As of that moment, I guess you can say you run."

True to her threat, she picked me up and made me jog with her. I didn't go with her every week, but whenever people asked me if I ran I told them,

"Well, it's not my idea of a good time, but I am perfectly capable."

It always gives me a sense of confidence to think this way. I think the power to change our lives is something I took for granted. Something I probably still take for granted. 

I go around with this thought in mind, now. Am I using my moments to craft the legacy I want to leave when my life comes to an end? 

I walk into school and go to sit down in my first period class, English. I pause and blink at the girl sitting in the back of the room, hoodie up, feet on the desk. 

I take a deep breath and walk back to her. She glares at me and pulls out her ear buds. 

"What do you want?

"I just wanted to say hello," I said. She furrowed her brow. 

"And I like your hoodie," I added. "That's a good band," 

She actually gave a half smile, "The best."

"Anyway, I hope you have a good day," I said, turning to go.

"Hey," she said. I faced her. "I'm sorry about your friend."

"Thanks," I said, feeling my heart tighten. I went and sat back down. The instructions on the board were simple: spend the first ten minutes of class writing a thank you letter to someone. I took out a blank sheet of paper, took a deep breath, and wrote a letter to my best friend. A letter she’d never get to read.

“Thank you for changing my life,” I began.

Author's Note

Does this first chapter make you want to keep reading?

Are the characters to vague to feel a connect with, or is it okay?

Can you sympathize with the main character?

How is the dialogue?

Any other thoughts???