Do you remember the first time you saw a snail? Maybe you were 4 years old and laid yourself flat to be on the same level as this tiny creature, and at this perspective you realized that you were huge. With your now giant hands you reached and grabbed her shell, lifted its slimy drooping body, and with widened eyes you zoomed in on its detail. It was incredible, like nothing you've ever seen. How could such a creature exist along side you? So fragile and limited; slow and weak. How did it get here and how far did it travel? Why did it travel so far? You come to the conclusion that she was hungry because she was SO close to reaching the grass. You "Hansel and Gretal" a trail of grass across the 7 inches of asphalt the little snail has yet to travel, as if to affirm her that her travel has been worth it. You made no lasting difference because two hours later the small snail was hit by a car, not to your knowledge, but alas, it was. It is not the results of the moments you've had that make the moments worth while, it is the moments themselves.