Hello! I would love to get some feedback for my essay and some corrections would be nice since this is my first draft!
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Yellow, shimmering, stretchy strands of noodles tangled against each other, topped with a sunny-side fried egg. My nose picked up the pungent smell of package powder seasoning, leaving my mouth lingering for water from the stir-fried ramen.
Time is important for cooking the noodles. To achieve that perfect soft and chewy texture, you'll need to let it boil for five to six minutes! Less of that, and it will be too starchy. More of that, and it will break into pieces, according to Bố (Dad). Bố loved stir-fried ramen just like I did. My obsession must have rooted from him-a clueless immigrant dad who doesn't know what to cook to fit the taste of his daughter.
"Bố, why would we need to cook it at a specific time? Aren't we going to stir-fry it anyway?"
The bright summer sun falls upon Bố's face, yellow and orange just like the colors of noodles I've always eaten.
"Boiling your noodles will also impact the whole ramen and the taste of it, con yêu của Bố (my beloved daughter). Eventually, you'll find the time you want your noodles to be cooked."
As the green leaves turned red months later, I couldn't imagine I would be in the hospital next to Bố eating ramen happily as if those precious memories were each other's source of comfort. The man who was so healthy and happily cooking ramen a few months back differed from the skinny man I now saw. After leaving his room that night, a pile of stir-fried noodles inside the trash can caught my eye. Suddenly a moment of realization hit me and at that point, I realized he was acting all along and couldn't digest the ramen properly anymore. The yellow-orange face wasn't my hallucination but a sign of jaundice, failure of the liver being strained on sodium.
Noodles are typically long and represent a long living life. Yet on November 4, 2022, as I opened up the doctor's note to my school which started with "To Whom This May Concern" as usual but my heart sank as I read the line "He is dying and has been transitioned to hospice care." and not soon after I took a two-week break from my studies.
Truthfully, I never made any stir-fried noodles and only ate them when Dad was around due to the high amount of salt it contains. However, after Bố's funeral, I came home and made stir-fried noodles on my own for the first time. Honestly, it sucks to make the noodles from two people to one person and the noodles came out too starchy, hard, irritated, and bland. I hate to say it but genuinely Bố's stir-fried ramen was the most boring with a sunny-side fried egg, still the best food in the world and I yearn for it once again.
Coming back to reality was tough, however, life continued. Just like the once tangled strands of noodles, the boiling water will help it from being clumped around through external force which only I can do. The bright yellow noodles are my tradition, resilience, and good health which I am blessed to have today. I want to become a better version of myself where there are plenty of opportunities I am surrounded by, where I can take chances, and where I cannot be afraid to experience different choices that best fit my life. I desire a pathway to medicine and crave for more knowledge about the anatomy of the human body. So let's add more toppings, try more flavors of ramen, and most importantly, thrive for the excellence that life has to offer.
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Yellow, shimmering, stretchy strands of noodles tangled against each other, topped with a sunny-side fried egg. My nose picked up the pungent smell of package powder seasoning, leaving my mouth lingering for water from the stir-fried ramen.
Time is important for cooking the noodles. To achieve that perfect soft and chewy texture, you'll need to let it boil for five to six minutes! Less of that, and it will be too starchy. More of that, and it will break into pieces, according to Bố (Dad). Bố loved stir-fried ramen just like I did. My obsession must have rooted from him-a clueless immigrant dad who doesn't know what to cook to fit the taste of his daughter.
"Bố, why would we need to cook it at a specific time? Aren't we going to stir-fry it anyway?"
The bright summer sun falls upon Bố's face, yellow and orange just like the colors of noodles I've always eaten.
"Boiling your noodles will also impact the whole ramen and the taste of it, con yêu của Bố (my beloved daughter). Eventually, you'll find the time you want your noodles to be cooked."
As the green leaves turned red months later, I couldn't imagine I would be in the hospital next to Bố eating ramen happily as if those precious memories were each other's source of comfort. The man who was so healthy and happily cooking ramen a few months back differed from the skinny man I now saw. After leaving his room that night, a pile of stir-fried noodles inside the trash can caught my eye. Suddenly a moment of realization hit me and at that point, I realized he was acting all along and couldn't digest the ramen properly anymore. The yellow-orange face wasn't my hallucination but a sign of jaundice, failure of the liver being strained on sodium.
Noodles are typically long and represent a long living life. Yet on November 4, 2022, as I opened up the doctor's note to my school which started with "To Whom This May Concern" as usual but my heart sank as I read the line "He is dying and has been transitioned to hospice care." and not soon after I took a two-week break from my studies.
Truthfully, I never made any stir-fried noodles and only ate them when Dad was around due to the high amount of salt it contains. However, after Bố's funeral, I came home and made stir-fried noodles on my own for the first time. Honestly, it sucks to make the noodles from two people to one person and the noodles came out too starchy, hard, irritated, and bland. I hate to say it but genuinely Bố's stir-fried ramen was the most boring with a sunny-side fried egg, still the best food in the world and I yearn for it once again.
Coming back to reality was tough, however, life continued. Just like the once tangled strands of noodles, the boiling water will help it from being clumped around through external force which only I can do. The bright yellow noodles are my tradition, resilience, and good health which I am blessed to have today. I want to become a better version of myself where there are plenty of opportunities I am surrounded by, where I can take chances, and where I cannot be afraid to experience different choices that best fit my life. I desire a pathway to medicine and crave for more knowledge about the anatomy of the human body. So let's add more toppings, try more flavors of ramen, and most importantly, thrive for the excellence that life has to offer.
