Undergraduate / My parents, influential persons - UT Austin [3]

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Write an essay in which you tell us about someone who has made an impact on your life and explain how and why this person is important to you.

When he would walk in, I would walk out. I was just seven years old at the time but I, an only child, can still remember each second and each minute that passed. Today, he has walked out of my life, but somehow, I know that one day he'll come back, back into my life. I can still remember the parched summer breeze when he would lift me up into the tall truck. He was always a shade or two darker than me, but I knew that was only because the number of hours he was in the sun. I knew I wasn't supposed to talk about my family towards strangers as my mom had taught. Yet somehow, in my little world, I knew he was as close to a brother as it can ever get.

On a typical Saturday afternoon, we would turn up the radio in the truck and I would ride in the back. As we reached the warehouse, he would hold my hand and we would skip right into the distributor's warehouse. I would climb aboard the cart specially made for wholesale manufacturers and we would laugh about everything and anything. I can still remember today because the same routine happened for the next five years. Whenever my parents would reprimand me, I would always run to him while he unloaded goods for the store. He would simply smile and tell me that my parents wanted what was best for me. He told me that one should always taste the bitter before the sweet. And today, I can honestly say he was who I needed. Sometimes, parents can never fill the void. However, as I grew older, I realized that time had created a barrier between us and as I climbed onto the ladder of life he created with me, I knew that he would be left behind. Obdurately, I persisted in sitting in the "wholesale cart"; however, as I went from sitting in the cart to standing on it, I recognized that time had ended and so would our friendship.

I can still remember the Winnie the Pooh candy jar sitting on top of the counter. Whenever we went to the warehouse, I would always stand in front of the candy jar observing it. My parents had bought me two of the candy jars, for some reason (I can't remember), I knew I needed a third jar. Therefore, my parents of course said no and I remember standing there helplessly, Winnie the Pooh's eyes and mine were steadfastly interlocked when suddenly someone swept me up. Alongside of me was Winnie the Pooh, I realized that the turned out to be my "brother".

As each year passed by, I realized that I went from having ingenuous yet intricate conversations to only say "Good morning". I failed to comprehend the barrier between us; somehow everything seemed awkward, yet normal. I didn't know what to say or how to start a conversation. Could it be that the past was just my imagination? Had it been my own input? Could it be that the candy jar was my mom's idea? All these questions seemed to baffle and overwhelm me. Yet somehow I didn't know what to do. How could the younger version of me be better at starting conversations?

Therefore, I began asking him Pre-Algebra problems or word problems in chemistry and soon, his crooked smile soothed my agony. I realized that although times have indeed changed, I was now sixteen while he was thirty-nine, he will never be an employee to me. He has returned home, yet somehow I know that the volume of memories we have had will be enough to last a lifetime. Today I realize why we had a simple yet persistent relationship; he was a brother to me and as I grew older, he transitioned into my mentor as well as confidant.

Undergraduate / "Looking at my transcripts..." - Yale supplement [8]

Looking at my transcripts of the past four years, I could not believe that the same numbers could evoke such contrasting feelings. I remember studying class notes, old quizzes, and homework packages without feeling any regret. All I knew was that it had taken me eight years to earn A's in all my courses, learn how to make samosas, and adapt to Caribbean idiosyncrasies, and I knew I could not give up. For the past three years, what gave me the boost to work was the smile that would surface as I received my report card. I believed that a high grade would be one step closer to relieving my parents of life as "chinos". However, looking at my accumulated GPA, I realized that after heaps of spelling books and English translators, I was no different than any other straight A student. How many highest honors students with exceptional community service hours are there after all? That bewilderment erupted into agony I could never have imagined as I began to wonder if I had anything that would set me aside, but fortunately the answer was in the footprint I had forsaken.

"What you doing, cash me chino," growled the angry customer.
I was fifteen. I had just come home from my weekly visit to the Senior Citizen's Home and I had homework. I could not "cash her", but I knew I had to.

Observing the size-5 foot imprint engraved into the cement floor, I looked up at the ceiling and heaved a sigh. I can still remember the day when I first arrived on the island, eager to seek pirates (I was five). As I stepped into the store, I remember stamping into the wet cement, thereby engraving my foot into it. I am now seventeen and these would be my last eight months on the 34 square mile island of St. Maarten. I feel like I have lived a lie that I could not tell my neighbors or even my best friend about. Deemed as the "friendly island", St. Maarten has emerged to be a decade long exam, testing my volume of fate and resilience.

Growing up inside the four walls of the grocery store, I recognized the contrasts I had with my friends, each subtle difference intensifying as I grew older. At first, the distinctions were trivial: I remember asking my mom why the channels on my television only portrayed people selecting packages of corn and sweet potatoes. As I witnessed life-threatening incidents and vulgarities, I realized that I became distant from my peers. While they revered idols and stars, I revered my parents for their audacity. I grew up reading the articles regarding robberies and murders, but I could not help thinking, did not my peers? Why were they oblivious to their surroundings? I have finally realized the answer: I have lived through these events and did not have to read the articles to understand. With the obstacles I encountered at the early age, I realized that I have become more determined than my peers.

Indeed, perspectives change depending on the side of the see-saw one is riding on, but like a see-saw, each seat has its flaws and streaks. I am glad I know the differences.