By Steve Rubinstein Still awake and on fire at 4 a.m. we are insects buzzing in palace trees below Shadows crouched between lintel and sill dust settling, pollen on forgotten wine. We pause in silence rise to a clear morning wail beneath the Blue Mosque amid the old city atop a jumbled scaffold of saffron beams. Blue skates carve helium turns overhead. Dawn emerges ochre and steaming. The Bosporus is a widening shadow of freight.

By Dave Onofrychuk On the way to Kindergarten, my son tells me Batman’s the best: anyone can be like him, you don’t need any powers. “Yes,” I say, “and he doesn’t have a family or kids. So he has time for other stuff, like fighting bad guys.” And where am I going with this? That my sacrifices as a parent must be valued at every turn? That you shouldn’t have kids if you want to be awesome? “But Batman did have a kid,” he says. Remember: in The Lego Batman Movie, Bruce Wayne adopted Robin. “You’re wrong, Dad.” Yeah, I tell him. He’s right.

By Paul Twardock During a marathon, a wilderness adventure race, a school semester, or a rocky point in life there comes a point of desperation. Imagine skiing though woods covered in frost hour after hour. The sun rises, then it sets. The moon shines, then dims. Northern Lights come and go. Owls hoot in the distance. At first it’s exhilarating, then it’s boring, then the legs hurt, the mind rebels, the stomach wants fuel. The finish is unimaginable, too far away to see, as is the start. This is the zone of the slog: one step at a time.  Decide to persevere and the finish will be yours.

By Garvee Tobin I took off alone in a Cessna 172 filled with the familiar rush that accompanies solo flight. There’s such peace in being alone 2,000 feet above the ground. Here, I can view the world from a different perspective. This is why I fly. That one afternoon, my euphoria was pierced by a noise in my headset. I checked the instruments: altimeter was steady; electrical circuits working; air speed at 100kph. Then I looked out the windshield only to see a plane headed straight towards me. What if? If my headset batteries hadn’t gone out that day, what would have signaled disaster?

By Nora Miller My friends think it’s funny to harass him. He is the hot athletic instructor. They’ll say to him: “Gosh, could you bend over and demonstrate that again.” And: “Wow. That totally works for me when you are on your knees.” Lots of giggles. “We’re so bad, aren’t we?” Wink wink, nod, nod. These are the women that support #metoo. These are the women who believe they are feminists and advocate women’s empowerment. These are the women who hate Trump because of his misogyny. I am speechless. It seems so wrong, so hypocritical, but I am too scared to say anything.

By Rosanne Pagano His email said he’d be late on our last night of class: “I have to pick up some art.” Maybe I made a note on the roster. Ours was a summer literature class, pledged to reading nine classics in 12 weeks. We’d done it. Who comes late to a victory like that? Eventually he showed and opened his Post-it-littered book. Nothing amiss except for slight crinkling whenever he shifted in his seat. “My new art,” he said, raising his shirt to reveal a tattoo still taped with plastic wrap. Inked over his heart was an open book, its pages blank and waiting. 

By Cassidy Ryder I climbed up the large tree roots and wrapped my little hands around the rope attached to the first branch. “Cassie, get down!” my sister Cayley demanded. “Charlie and I were going to play on the swing!” I clung tighter. There was nothing they could do to make me let go. Charlie whispered in Cayley’s ear. They grinned to each other. “We’ll push you, Cassie. Okay?” Charlie said calmly. Eagerly, I hopped on the rope swing. Charlie and Cayley took hold of the end of the rope, raising me up. They let go and slammed my back into the tree.

By Grace Schultz Never allow yourself to replace your morning cup of Joe for the rush that comes with a glimpse of some John Doe. Morning Joe gives you instant energy, confidence to face and rule the day! John Doe makes your heart race, your stomach flip and your face beam, a rush. But do not forget that the phenomena that comes with John Doe will not remain constant like that of morning Joe.

By JoLean Fultz I wake up To my morning cup Of fresh brew To conquer this day that’s new. With it I feel armed and steady For the load I bare is getting heavy The clothes I wear, the breakfast I eat, I am ready for today, I will not face defeat. I studied fast, for time I cannot waste I’m going to pass, no matter how much caffeine it takes. I am happy Happy for this new day A day of challenges A day that has never been done before A new day with you At APU

By Julia Ditto In the Brooks Range, the landscape moved and breathed on a scale too slow to watch, as if time had stopped completely. Mountains weathered away, while spruce crept slowly up the rocky slopes, but I could not sense such motion. The sun never set. My 42-day trip was just a blink of an eye for the land I walked upon. I was seeing the Brooks Range as others had seen it years ago—an untouched, sacred piece of the world. May it always remain so.