A super super bowl
By Donyisha Wooley
I accept that there is power in a moment. Not the mystical or supernatural type of power, but influence. This understanding came to me within the last few years of burying loved ones and reflecting on moments we had had together.
A moment doesn’t give you a choice before it happens. From the time you’re born, you have a series of them and the moments create your life. Without considering, it’s easy to forget the true importance of a moment because it becomes routine. It’s “just time” so we think, but that moment in history when Martin Luther King Jr. gave his “I Have A Dream” speech, that moment when we sadly watched our Twin Towers collapse in 2001, the moment when someone watches a child take a first step are all a series of little moments that result in a big influence for individual lives and for the world as a whole.
This year was my first Super Bowl game away from home. I love people and because I’m an only child, I am pleased by the littlest things when it comes to interacting with people. I was overjoyed to be able to attend a Super Bowl party. The campus minister invited us to his house, where we engaged in laughter, fellowship and food, and everyone in that room created a first-time memory with me.
Without their knowledge, every person in that house became part of something great in my mind. I took a moment to look from person to person and I couldn’t help smiling. The football game wasn’t much of an attention-holder for me because my team wasn’t playing, but I will always remember that night.
When my roommates and I were journeying home that night, it began to snow and my surroundings looked likeI was trapped in a snow globe. I can tell you being outside in a snow shower isn’t one of my favorite activities, but that night was different. I walked alongside my roommates and there was no chill, just peace.
Our block was evenly covered with a fluffy, sparkling blanket of pure beauty. My roommate Briana took my right hand in her left, pointing out how the street light reflected off the snow falling onto the cable lines. She proceeded to announce angles that she would photograph. She explained how our neighbors' house looked covered in the beautiful blanket with one of their glass light posts blown out, and the other flickering as if it was not quite sure if it should shine bright or dim out like its partner.
We approached our house and I sat on the swing on our porch, watching my other roommate Allison as she played in the snow in the yard. Briana sat down beside me and began to pour words of reflection into my ears.
She said, “Tonight are the memories I’ll cherish …” She went on to say, “…This time next year I will be married, but I will still remember these sounds around us, you and Allison and me looking forward to the new memories we will have created together…” Her words hit me heavily and I began to focus on the sounds and the feeling. I took a walk down memory lane.
I remembered back to Aug. 26, 2013, when I left home. I took in the last smell of my bedroom; I went downstairs with my cat, Louie, and stared upon the mountain of boxes, bags, and shelves. This was the moment I had been so eager for all summer. I was finally going back to school full time and I was moving into a beautiful house. I was finally proving to be a young adult. The neighbors engaged in conversation with my mother as I shoved everything in our navy blue eight-passenger van. The day was hot and sunny. I couldn’t describe this any more perfectly than how it actually was.
Arriving alongside my new ellow house, I took in the beauty of the sun hitting the yellow panel, how green the grass looked on this side, the address number 331 glistening in the light. It felt great that I was creating the memory of my first home away from home. Walking inside, I saw a beautiful red-headed young lady on a couch, talking on the phone with a Mac on her lap. She concluded her conversation, rising to greet my mother and me. Briana was her name and she introduced herself with a warm face and pleasant smile; it hit me then: I am living with people for the first time whom I know nothing about. Leaving the house to find a grocery store with my mother, I quietly bounced my knee in nervousness, thinking, "I still have two more people to meet."
Coming out of my thoughts, still sitting with Briana on that snowy night, watching Allison, my eyes began to tear up. I love these ladies dearly and in just one semester, I feel a bond with them that is so great that it almost feels impossible to reflect on a time where I was afraid of what they really thought of me or if we could ever trust one another. I am blessed to have met four strangers and now call them family. The poet Nishan Panwar said it best, “All life is, is a series of moments. So cherish every moment that you have, because in a moment, it will be gone.”
Over the last year, I have felt myself come into the maturity of a woman and of a young adult. A football game, walking down the street holding the hand of a friend, watching the snow fall, and seeing Allison fail at making well-shaped snow balls would seem insignificant. I believe that over time and because we plan ahead so much and depend on following a schedule, every second, minute, hour, day, month, and year has become familiar. We then become less and less appreciative of what is directly before us. Life can’t last forever.
I remind myself daily the memories we make with one another will carry on in the hearts and minds of those surrounding us. I’ve been told experience is the best teacher, and so I’ve been more focused on the moments. It’s the moments we shared that have carried me through their painful absence. One day, someone may lose me and I want the person to know I took advantage of every moment we spent together. I want my life to say, “I focus. I cherish the time now and the memories when the time is gone.”
Eventually, that night began to grow colder. We made our way inside and I purposely entered the house last so I could take in the moment and listen to the sound of the door opening, feel the chill, see the beauty of the snow and hear our feet walking into our home. My last thought before closing the door was what a super Super Bowl.
Read more about Donyisha Wooley on her personal blog.
I accept that there is power in a moment. Not the mystical or supernatural type of power, but influence. This understanding came to me within the last few years of burying loved ones and reflecting on moments we had had together.
A moment doesn’t give you a choice before it happens. From the time you’re born, you have a series of them and the moments create your life. Without considering, it’s easy to forget the true importance of a moment because it becomes routine. It’s “just time” so we think, but that moment in history when Martin Luther King Jr. gave his “I Have A Dream” speech, that moment when we sadly watched our Twin Towers collapse in 2001, the moment when someone watches a child take a first step are all a series of little moments that result in a big influence for individual lives and for the world as a whole.
This year was my first Super Bowl game away from home. I love people and because I’m an only child, I am pleased by the littlest things when it comes to interacting with people. I was overjoyed to be able to attend a Super Bowl party. The campus minister invited us to his house, where we engaged in laughter, fellowship and food, and everyone in that room created a first-time memory with me.
Without their knowledge, every person in that house became part of something great in my mind. I took a moment to look from person to person and I couldn’t help smiling. The football game wasn’t much of an attention-holder for me because my team wasn’t playing, but I will always remember that night.
When my roommates and I were journeying home that night, it began to snow and my surroundings looked likeI was trapped in a snow globe. I can tell you being outside in a snow shower isn’t one of my favorite activities, but that night was different. I walked alongside my roommates and there was no chill, just peace.
Our block was evenly covered with a fluffy, sparkling blanket of pure beauty. My roommate Briana took my right hand in her left, pointing out how the street light reflected off the snow falling onto the cable lines. She proceeded to announce angles that she would photograph. She explained how our neighbors' house looked covered in the beautiful blanket with one of their glass light posts blown out, and the other flickering as if it was not quite sure if it should shine bright or dim out like its partner.
We approached our house and I sat on the swing on our porch, watching my other roommate Allison as she played in the snow in the yard. Briana sat down beside me and began to pour words of reflection into my ears.
She said, “Tonight are the memories I’ll cherish …” She went on to say, “…This time next year I will be married, but I will still remember these sounds around us, you and Allison and me looking forward to the new memories we will have created together…” Her words hit me heavily and I began to focus on the sounds and the feeling. I took a walk down memory lane.
I remembered back to Aug. 26, 2013, when I left home. I took in the last smell of my bedroom; I went downstairs with my cat, Louie, and stared upon the mountain of boxes, bags, and shelves. This was the moment I had been so eager for all summer. I was finally going back to school full time and I was moving into a beautiful house. I was finally proving to be a young adult. The neighbors engaged in conversation with my mother as I shoved everything in our navy blue eight-passenger van. The day was hot and sunny. I couldn’t describe this any more perfectly than how it actually was.
Arriving alongside my new ellow house, I took in the beauty of the sun hitting the yellow panel, how green the grass looked on this side, the address number 331 glistening in the light. It felt great that I was creating the memory of my first home away from home. Walking inside, I saw a beautiful red-headed young lady on a couch, talking on the phone with a Mac on her lap. She concluded her conversation, rising to greet my mother and me. Briana was her name and she introduced herself with a warm face and pleasant smile; it hit me then: I am living with people for the first time whom I know nothing about. Leaving the house to find a grocery store with my mother, I quietly bounced my knee in nervousness, thinking, "I still have two more people to meet."
Coming out of my thoughts, still sitting with Briana on that snowy night, watching Allison, my eyes began to tear up. I love these ladies dearly and in just one semester, I feel a bond with them that is so great that it almost feels impossible to reflect on a time where I was afraid of what they really thought of me or if we could ever trust one another. I am blessed to have met four strangers and now call them family. The poet Nishan Panwar said it best, “All life is, is a series of moments. So cherish every moment that you have, because in a moment, it will be gone.”
Over the last year, I have felt myself come into the maturity of a woman and of a young adult. A football game, walking down the street holding the hand of a friend, watching the snow fall, and seeing Allison fail at making well-shaped snow balls would seem insignificant. I believe that over time and because we plan ahead so much and depend on following a schedule, every second, minute, hour, day, month, and year has become familiar. We then become less and less appreciative of what is directly before us. Life can’t last forever.
I remind myself daily the memories we make with one another will carry on in the hearts and minds of those surrounding us. I’ve been told experience is the best teacher, and so I’ve been more focused on the moments. It’s the moments we shared that have carried me through their painful absence. One day, someone may lose me and I want the person to know I took advantage of every moment we spent together. I want my life to say, “I focus. I cherish the time now and the memories when the time is gone.”
Eventually, that night began to grow colder. We made our way inside and I purposely entered the house last so I could take in the moment and listen to the sound of the door opening, feel the chill, see the beauty of the snow and hear our feet walking into our home. My last thought before closing the door was what a super Super Bowl.
Read more about Donyisha Wooley on her personal blog.