Hi. Can you help me proof-reading my essay? Thank you!
The prompt is: Discuss an accomplishment or event, formal or informal, that marked your transition from childhood to adulthood within your culture, community, or family.
"Someday, I may not be able to see anymore," my dad said, as tears began to fill his eyes. Even though that idea was not new to me, shivers ran down my spine while his words resounded between the walls of the quiet living room. Petrified, I could only look at him, and somehow try to make him know I was there, as I always will be.
I had never seen my dad crying. Yet, there we were: the strongest man I knew, sharing his fears with me. "I'm not a child anymore", I thought. Grasping that idea seemed difficult, but unavoidable. I could hear his voice slightly breaking, and the blocks switched in my head. My dad showed me how vulnerable he was. He was still my hero, but no longer needed to be my superhero.
His multiple eye conditions had led me to think about the possibility of him eventually losing his sight. But, as most children do, I always banished my thoughts. How could that be possible? My dad was invincible. However, at that moment reality set in. What if it actually happened? And, if it did, when would this terrible instant occur? What was I supposed to do? My family's only source of income is my dad's work, and as the oldest -and the only male- of four siblings, I instantly questioned my role at home. I wasn't in high school anymore, and had to take steps to become the man my family needed.
Immediately, my view of the world changed. The usual chores and responsibilities turned into opportunities to grow, to make a positive impact, and it was up to me to make the most of them. My college preparation, my job, picking up my sisters from school. I became more sensitive to the consequences of every decision I had to make, even the ones as small as choosing whether to go out with a friend or staying home.
Things also started to change at home. My parents now asked to give my opinion about important issues, such as the handling of my teenage sisters' character, or the direction in which we had to lead our family, and the steps to make it there. With my sisters, the concept of being a role model appeared much clearer and relevant. They looked at my example, whether it was good or bad. How I handled my responsibilities, my social life, my failures and accomplishments; everything was a chance to give them advice without saying a single word.
No one expected me to suddenly become the pillar of my family, neither emotionally nor economically. However, talking with my dad I realized I had to be prepared to face those challenges. He showed me his fear and uncertainty, those who he had always overcome to become the strong and brave man I knew and admired.
Adulthood didn't come to me as some state I could suddenly reach. It was about living mindfully, facing difficulties and embracing opportunities with responsibility and determination, despite my weaknesses and fears. Unlike aging, maturing is not involuntary. It's a process that I have to control, and I will keep doing so as long as I remember the conversation I had that night with my dad.
The prompt is: Discuss an accomplishment or event, formal or informal, that marked your transition from childhood to adulthood within your culture, community, or family.
"Someday, I may not be able to see anymore," my dad said, as tears began to fill his eyes. Even though that idea was not new to me, shivers ran down my spine while his words resounded between the walls of the quiet living room. Petrified, I could only look at him, and somehow try to make him know I was there, as I always will be.
I had never seen my dad crying. Yet, there we were: the strongest man I knew, sharing his fears with me. "I'm not a child anymore", I thought. Grasping that idea seemed difficult, but unavoidable. I could hear his voice slightly breaking, and the blocks switched in my head. My dad showed me how vulnerable he was. He was still my hero, but no longer needed to be my superhero.
His multiple eye conditions had led me to think about the possibility of him eventually losing his sight. But, as most children do, I always banished my thoughts. How could that be possible? My dad was invincible. However, at that moment reality set in. What if it actually happened? And, if it did, when would this terrible instant occur? What was I supposed to do? My family's only source of income is my dad's work, and as the oldest -and the only male- of four siblings, I instantly questioned my role at home. I wasn't in high school anymore, and had to take steps to become the man my family needed.
Immediately, my view of the world changed. The usual chores and responsibilities turned into opportunities to grow, to make a positive impact, and it was up to me to make the most of them. My college preparation, my job, picking up my sisters from school. I became more sensitive to the consequences of every decision I had to make, even the ones as small as choosing whether to go out with a friend or staying home.
Things also started to change at home. My parents now asked to give my opinion about important issues, such as the handling of my teenage sisters' character, or the direction in which we had to lead our family, and the steps to make it there. With my sisters, the concept of being a role model appeared much clearer and relevant. They looked at my example, whether it was good or bad. How I handled my responsibilities, my social life, my failures and accomplishments; everything was a chance to give them advice without saying a single word.
No one expected me to suddenly become the pillar of my family, neither emotionally nor economically. However, talking with my dad I realized I had to be prepared to face those challenges. He showed me his fear and uncertainty, those who he had always overcome to become the strong and brave man I knew and admired.
Adulthood didn't come to me as some state I could suddenly reach. It was about living mindfully, facing difficulties and embracing opportunities with responsibility and determination, despite my weaknesses and fears. Unlike aging, maturing is not involuntary. It's a process that I have to control, and I will keep doing so as long as I remember the conversation I had that night with my dad.
