UC prompt 2: describe the world you come from
Think of a tree. Look at your hand. The fingers are the branches. The skin and lines represent the bark. Every callous or cut is a tear in that bark. Your arm is the stem. And it's all connected to your body, the root. Now imagine yourself bunched together with a crowd of people of all ages. The young ones are the leaves, still flailing around trying to build their "path". A person with a broken arm or a broken heart is a tear, a gnarl, in the bark. Others who have found their purpose represent a branch while those who are content with their life are the stem. But what holds all of these people together, what makes them who they are, what is the root system behind every person?
My tear in the bark occurred when I was only five years old; when I was ripped from the comfort of the only home I knew. At first I was just a little five year old amazed by literally everything in America but this amazement quickly ended when the new sights ceased to capture my attention and I reminiscing about my grandparents who were back in India. I was brought to the "land of opportunity" by an uncle I had never met, forced to live with two unfamiliar people: my parents, ripped from the ground in which I had grown, planted in completely new soil, my roots struggling to find some water to feed on.
And I did. I remember coming home from kindergarten with tears streaming down my face because I couldn't speak English. My mother would sit down with me and read to me everyday just so that I could learn English. My dad would come home from work and help me with math, a whole another world I did not understand. My younger brother cheered me up on those horrible days. My family became my roots. The strangers gradually developed into parents and finally into roots that support me. They have given me the water and have become my support system transforming me from a helpless and frightened little girl into an independent woman ready to branch out into the next phase of her life.
In comparison with the rest of the world I am still one of those floundering leaves attempting to find my path. My family and their philosophy of hard work, perseverance, and good morale are my roots that form the road I walk down, anchoring me to a foundation from which I can grow. And as I walk this life I know that I live in a world bombarded with continual trials but also full of immeasurable beauty and like every other leaf, I live on, hoping that one day I can become a branch and finally a root.
any criticism is welcome
THANK YOU
Think of a tree. Look at your hand. The fingers are the branches. The skin and lines represent the bark. Every callous or cut is a tear in that bark. Your arm is the stem. And it's all connected to your body, the root. Now imagine yourself bunched together with a crowd of people of all ages. The young ones are the leaves, still flailing around trying to build their "path". A person with a broken arm or a broken heart is a tear, a gnarl, in the bark. Others who have found their purpose represent a branch while those who are content with their life are the stem. But what holds all of these people together, what makes them who they are, what is the root system behind every person?
My tear in the bark occurred when I was only five years old; when I was ripped from the comfort of the only home I knew. At first I was just a little five year old amazed by literally everything in America but this amazement quickly ended when the new sights ceased to capture my attention and I reminiscing about my grandparents who were back in India. I was brought to the "land of opportunity" by an uncle I had never met, forced to live with two unfamiliar people: my parents, ripped from the ground in which I had grown, planted in completely new soil, my roots struggling to find some water to feed on.
And I did. I remember coming home from kindergarten with tears streaming down my face because I couldn't speak English. My mother would sit down with me and read to me everyday just so that I could learn English. My dad would come home from work and help me with math, a whole another world I did not understand. My younger brother cheered me up on those horrible days. My family became my roots. The strangers gradually developed into parents and finally into roots that support me. They have given me the water and have become my support system transforming me from a helpless and frightened little girl into an independent woman ready to branch out into the next phase of her life.
In comparison with the rest of the world I am still one of those floundering leaves attempting to find my path. My family and their philosophy of hard work, perseverance, and good morale are my roots that form the road I walk down, anchoring me to a foundation from which I can grow. And as I walk this life I know that I live in a world bombarded with continual trials but also full of immeasurable beauty and like every other leaf, I live on, hoping that one day I can become a branch and finally a root.
any criticism is welcome
THANK YOU
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