Spring Break Trip!

So last week for Spring Break, I went on a volunteer trip that lasted eight days with forty random people that I didn't know. For the first six days of the trip, we went to six cities to volunteer, a new city each day. We would do our service in the morning, and in the afternoons we would site-see and drive to our next city. Our site-seeing took us to places like Car-henge, Scottsbluffs, and the world's longest walking bridge in Nebraska, a bison ranch in South Dakota, and Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado. At these places I got to climb a national monument, ride a car-dinosaur, and slide down a frozen waterfall!

I wasn't sure how many friends I was going to make, but it just so happens that I made forty new friends, and they are all great. I became especially good friends with Allie, Lau, Longyu, and Miranda. The trip was great, and well worth it. Thank you to everyone that was with me. I will never forget this experience.

Remembering

When I was in kindergarden, we went to school for half-days. There were the AM'ers (that was me) and the PM'ers. So there I was, four or five years old with nothing to do every afternoon. I took the bus to the church near my grandma's house, even though it was a mere four blocks away, and had lunch with her and Grandpa. She always had lunch ready just as I arrived. All I had to do was wash my hands and sit down. I remember the washing hands part of the deal being a major inconvenience. Germs were like ghosts or a million dollars; if I couldn't see them, then they most not be real. Grandma would talk at Grandpa for the majority of the meal, occasionally prying a few word response from him, that is, until she touched on some political topic. Then Grandpa, meal forgotten, would lecture Grandma and me on the importance of this or that and how outrageous some policy is for the next fifteen minutes. Being in kindergarden, this was all a bunch of mumbo jumbo to me. Anyways, as if suddenly remembering his meal, Grandpa would clam up and finish eating, the mood at the table as if the whole thing never happened. He was just content to get his thoughts out there and let them dangle. When the meal was finished, or just about, Paul Harvey would come on to the radio with "The Rest of the Story." God, I loved listening to him. He had a certain way with words and pronunciation that made that my favorite time of the day.


This is one of my most treasured memories of time with my grandpa. Perhaps it is my most treasured because it is one that my brother and sister never experienced. Whatever the reason, I almost started crying when I heard Paul Harvey's voice come on during the Super Bowl commercials. Hearing his voice brought the memory rushing back with such force. I've probably watched that commercial on Youtube a dozen times since last night, reliving that memory.

My Life in a Snap Shot

I already have told it. It was my college admission essay. This is it...

This is it, my moment to shine. For the team and me, the past four months of practice and hard work have led up to this point. Now it’s up to me to make it pay off. It’s the state championship curling finals, and for me, as captain of my team, a win here is the pinnacle of achievement. It’s the last shot of the game, my shot. Do or die. I’ve made the call. I’m standing behind the hack. I focus. I clear my head.

I don’t think about my grades. I have an AP Calculus chapter test to study for this weekend. My AP Statistics homework is in my book bag in the locker room patiently waiting for me to crack it open and finish it off. My saxophone is at home in its case, unopened and untouched. I don’t even recall if I remembered to bring my sheet music home or not. Not to add to the work load, but there is that list of college applications to complete as well.

I don’t think about my other co-curricular activities. Next week, I have pep band. I believe it is one of the last ones for the basketball season. State chess is coming up soon; I have this gut feeling that it’s going to be so much fun. I’m not expecting to do exceedingly well because it is a hobby I just picked up. As for Green Team, we’re so close to having enough money for the solar panel system for the school. In only a few more months, it will be a done deal. A win today would make up for not being able to play soccer anymore. A few concussions too many and the doctors suddenly have their undergarments twisted saying things like, “No more contact sports.”

I don’t think about the people I love. My mom, and her mom, is sitting behind the glass with the rest of the anxious spectators. They’re probably more nervous right now than I am. My best friend is sitting back there too. He’s been watching, scrutinizing every call I make and every shot I throw. A little pang of regret exists there. He’s going to college in the fall, and I’m not. If my grandfather had been here, sitting back in those stands, he would have been so proud. He taught me to curl, the game and the strategy. He is my greatest hero. This shot is for him.

I clear this all from my head in the time it takes for my two teammates to clear their stopwatches, ready their brooms, and take their positions on either side of me. I don’t think. I slide out flawlessly, a perfect demonstration of years of practice. I release the stone. It’s dead on. It’s perfect. Before even the stones stop moving, I’m half sliding, half running down the ice with my fists in the air. My team and I embrace. I couldn’t have done it without the four of them. I glance back at the end result of my shot. I grin to myself. This is my moment to shine.