Hey everyone, I'm working on my personal essay for the common app. This is a first draft, and I would love any suggestions on how to improve it. Thanks!
Memories can be compared to footprints left in the sand. Easily imprinted and cemented forever into the sands of time, memories are cherished throughout a lifetime. For those with Alzheimer's Disease, these memories are more like those that are washed away by the tide, erased from existence in the simple rush of water. While volunteering at a nursing home for those with Alzheimer's, I learned that these memories those that are the most deeply imprinted beneath the surface, with the potential to enthrall and touch the lives of anyone who has the privilege to experience them.
Completely out of my comfort zone, I walked into the nursing home and glanced around to see elderly men in suspenders and grandmothers with hair spun of white silk. My first thought was, "how am I supposed to carry on a conversation with a person that is not only a stranger, but may not even fully comprehend some of their comments?" Pushing myself to throw my inhibitions aside, I became engaged multiple conversations and eventually the discussion circled to my Abercrombie & Fitch sweatshirt, which was deemed to be "such a pretty color for a young girl." Smiling to myself, I began to realize how easy the chatter flowed between us, not even noticing the 3 men that had pulled up chairs behind us, joking amongst them. As the night came to a close, I walked along the hallway with one of the residents, who informed me that he was once part of the Marines, responsible for jumping out of planes and helicopters during conflict. I stopped and gaped at the elderly man in the pageboy cap whom I was walking down the hallway with, completely taken aback and at a loss for words. I had never imagined such an exciting and dangerous past for a man now in an Alzheimer's home! He also began to tell tales of his friends at the home: the former French model, Steelers football player, and secretary at the White House. Now, I was completely shocked out of my mind.
I had walked into the nursing home expecting to glance at the clock every 2 minutes and force a smile as I volunteered among whom I had expected to be cranky old ladies and grumpy men, burdened by an Alzheimer's diagnosis. I left with a light heart and a mind spinning with stories of the glamorous Parisian fashion world and army life of decades past. I no longer felt as much sadness for the ones plagued by a disease, because I realized the meaning and power that memories have for us. As Faulkner once said, "The past is never dead, it is not even past." Even once memories are erased, the past still remains in the mind, the way that footprints leave their mark forever after the waves have washed away the surface.
Memories can be compared to footprints left in the sand. Easily imprinted and cemented forever into the sands of time, memories are cherished throughout a lifetime. For those with Alzheimer's Disease, these memories are more like those that are washed away by the tide, erased from existence in the simple rush of water. While volunteering at a nursing home for those with Alzheimer's, I learned that these memories those that are the most deeply imprinted beneath the surface, with the potential to enthrall and touch the lives of anyone who has the privilege to experience them.
Completely out of my comfort zone, I walked into the nursing home and glanced around to see elderly men in suspenders and grandmothers with hair spun of white silk. My first thought was, "how am I supposed to carry on a conversation with a person that is not only a stranger, but may not even fully comprehend some of their comments?" Pushing myself to throw my inhibitions aside, I became engaged multiple conversations and eventually the discussion circled to my Abercrombie & Fitch sweatshirt, which was deemed to be "such a pretty color for a young girl." Smiling to myself, I began to realize how easy the chatter flowed between us, not even noticing the 3 men that had pulled up chairs behind us, joking amongst them. As the night came to a close, I walked along the hallway with one of the residents, who informed me that he was once part of the Marines, responsible for jumping out of planes and helicopters during conflict. I stopped and gaped at the elderly man in the pageboy cap whom I was walking down the hallway with, completely taken aback and at a loss for words. I had never imagined such an exciting and dangerous past for a man now in an Alzheimer's home! He also began to tell tales of his friends at the home: the former French model, Steelers football player, and secretary at the White House. Now, I was completely shocked out of my mind.
I had walked into the nursing home expecting to glance at the clock every 2 minutes and force a smile as I volunteered among whom I had expected to be cranky old ladies and grumpy men, burdened by an Alzheimer's diagnosis. I left with a light heart and a mind spinning with stories of the glamorous Parisian fashion world and army life of decades past. I no longer felt as much sadness for the ones plagued by a disease, because I realized the meaning and power that memories have for us. As Faulkner once said, "The past is never dead, it is not even past." Even once memories are erased, the past still remains in the mind, the way that footprints leave their mark forever after the waves have washed away the surface.
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