so, yeah, this is my College essay in it's final form
I’d say it was about six months ago, when my mom tiptoed into my dimly lit room and climbed under the black comforter. She wrapped me in her arms, and whisper silly things like “the bunny says wake up, Ryan,” I remember waking up, asking for another half hour. She laughed, and began telling me her expectations for the day. Her voice became tense soon into the conversation, and I began to wonder what it was she was hiding. Not five minutes later she began, “Ryan, Gram died last night.”
I remember stuttering at first. Eventually the only thing I could get out was a timid, and in it’s own way, pathetic “Are you sure?” I paused then, doubt and regret rushing over me. My mom held me tightly, holding back the tears I knew she was tempted to let free. “But why now?” I whimpered, “Wasn’t she getting better?”
Mom spoke with a calm soothing tone. Where my words shook like earthquakes, hers held no tremble. “She was supposed to be fine, but Gram was an independent woman and-“
“Like you.” I sniffled.
She smiled a little, “Yes, and- ”
“But why now?” I persisted indignantly. “What if she got better? She never saw our new house, and she can never go back to the charities and travel groups.” She had been in those community organizations for years, until she was 91, and I’d say she enjoyed every minute of it.
She began playing with my hair and we began to remember, rather than grieve. “You know, if I am lucky, I will become half the woman she was,” she stated, looking down at me, matter-of-factly.
“And if I am lucky, I will become half the woman you are. That will make me ¼ Gram.”
I listened to her steady voice. She was very much like gram already, always thinking of others, and trying her hardest to be strong. And, like gram, she is one of the most independent woman I will ever have the pleasure of knowing. I am lucky she’s my mother.
This reminded me of something, and it made me look into my mom’s eyes, and I couldn’t help but note how much they resembled grams. The wisdom and strength of both women shined in her eyes, and I knew then that gram would never be far away. I crawled out of bed, and she sat up. “When I was in grade school, I hated my name, and constantly being told it was a boy’s name. I also hated my middle name, but I don’t think I ever knew why. Now I think of my name, Ryan Marie George, and I am proud to be the namesake of my grandmother and my mom.”
Mom pulled me into a tight embrace, and I think she cried a little. “You know what I think? I think you’re becoming more and more like your grandmother everyday.” She got up, patted my head, and left the room.
I stretched, thinking on the preparations for the funeral with apprehension. Getting ready for my shower, I thought about my mom and gram, and all the things that described them: independent, caring, confident, generous, strong willed, and the list goes on. I looked into the mirror and smiled. I am becoming the woman I always wanted to be.
unfortunately, it's not as good as it should be cause i had to cut about 300 words off. >_<
oh well, at least it's done.. ^_^ yay!
I remember stuttering at first. Eventually the only thing I could get out was a timid, and in it’s own way, pathetic “Are you sure?” I paused then, doubt and regret rushing over me. My mom held me tightly, holding back the tears I knew she was tempted to let free. “But why now?” I whimpered, “Wasn’t she getting better?”
Mom spoke with a calm soothing tone. Where my words shook like earthquakes, hers held no tremble. “She was supposed to be fine, but Gram was an independent woman and-“
“Like you.” I sniffled.
She smiled a little, “Yes, and- ”
“But why now?” I persisted indignantly. “What if she got better? She never saw our new house, and she can never go back to the charities and travel groups.” She had been in those community organizations for years, until she was 91, and I’d say she enjoyed every minute of it.
She began playing with my hair and we began to remember, rather than grieve. “You know, if I am lucky, I will become half the woman she was,” she stated, looking down at me, matter-of-factly.
“And if I am lucky, I will become half the woman you are. That will make me ¼ Gram.”
I listened to her steady voice. She was very much like gram already, always thinking of others, and trying her hardest to be strong. And, like gram, she is one of the most independent woman I will ever have the pleasure of knowing. I am lucky she’s my mother.
This reminded me of something, and it made me look into my mom’s eyes, and I couldn’t help but note how much they resembled grams. The wisdom and strength of both women shined in her eyes, and I knew then that gram would never be far away. I crawled out of bed, and she sat up. “When I was in grade school, I hated my name, and constantly being told it was a boy’s name. I also hated my middle name, but I don’t think I ever knew why. Now I think of my name, Ryan Marie George, and I am proud to be the namesake of my grandmother and my mom.”
Mom pulled me into a tight embrace, and I think she cried a little. “You know what I think? I think you’re becoming more and more like your grandmother everyday.” She got up, patted my head, and left the room.
I stretched, thinking on the preparations for the funeral with apprehension. Getting ready for my shower, I thought about my mom and gram, and all the things that described them: independent, caring, confident, generous, strong willed, and the list goes on. I looked into the mirror and smiled. I am becoming the woman I always wanted to be.
unfortunately, it's not as good as it should be cause i had to cut about 300 words off. >_<
oh well, at least it's done.. ^_^ yay!