“Way too scattered to write a slice,” she says, sipping her 4 PM coffee and flooding her ears with sound, hoping it will help her write. But without a single moment to focus on, what she hears and tastes is frustration.
“Way too many slices in one day to simply choose one,” she thinks, feeling the sunlight on her back—an announcement that rain has probably stopped.
Several moments today, she was teary-eyed, suspended in thought, mentally writing slices.
On a day of stacked moments, she chose not to slice the day before, to see what part of her day would surprise her. She knew they’d be a couple.
The thing is, as a slicer, she now sees each moment differently.
The different route to school offers a slice with its bursting orange at 7:15 AM.
The rushed trip to Publix becomes a slice as she carries her toddler’s birthday balloon.
The fourth graders say, “Can I show Ms. Ana first?” when their teacher asks to see their draft. A slice.
The second-grade teacher celebrates her in front of families. An unforgettable slice.
Way too many pauses were needed today to take it all in. She knows she just needs to get the words down, and go back to living.
That’s what slicing does, though.
It turns her ordinary days into moments she savors before they become memories of her time in Miami.
Start with a Story 
This- The thing is, as a slicer, she now sees each moment differently.- My favorite part of the month is I live more awake to the world around me or I get to relive past moments!
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🥹 stoppp. This slice feels like that part in Ralph’s essay “The Funeral” where he is so aware of this being the last time. You’re here for a while still, no date on the horizon, no nostalgia! 😭😭😭
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