I'm struggling over which Common App essay to pick. This is one of two. The other one is called "Crumbs."
Please tell me how you think of this essay!
"Dad, can you tell me a story?"
Our eyes met, a clash of matching chocolate-brown pupils. I knew at that instant, he had accepted my request to journey with him. Slowly, I slipped into his aged shoes as he spoke the words that paved a long road into his memories.
Years ago, when I saw that my right shoe always fell off as a result of crooked walking, I knew my traveling days were over. It was hard to accept that I, a natural wanderer, couldn't travel with the same vigor as I had in the past, that I couldn't experience life and its adventures to the fullest without feeling pain. Despite the fact that my trips to distant locations became localized to a nearby park or beach, I'd still struggle walking and, when I felt my shoe slip off my throbbing foot, I'd quietly succumb to a bench or log to rest and triple-knot my shoelaces.
Stories were what let me continue my journeys. Hungry for some kind of adventure, I'd ask my father to tell me tales of his younger years. With each syllable he spoke, I traveled back into the past. I ran beside a dusty-eyed, white-toothed boy with a stolen watermelon. I traveled to the chaotic streets of 1970s Korea, watching my father throw a Molotov cocktail at a police car amidst a screaming riot of anti-government citizens. His stories, an ensemble of words and emotions, let me travel in a way that compensated for my loose right shoe: by stepping into the shoes of people and walking in their memories.
I frequently engaged in story-telling sessions with people around me, using their words to envision unexplored territories. I wandered onto rocky paths and crossroads of memories. I drifted into halcyon days and tragedies. When my best friend told me her romance troubles, I walked through her mind's fogs of uncertainty and excitement. I wandered into my mother's memories and saw the ramshackle country house where she had nearly died of gas inhalation. I stepped into a dark forest in a distant country as an old man described his childhood home near the woods. My experiences in relating to the people around me have shown me that there was more than just one world to discover.
The souvenirs I received were not little "I Love ____" keychains but fragments of life, understanding, and empathy. Understanding people is greater than climbing the tallest mountain or swimming in the deepest sea. Though I can't describe how the Pyramid of Giza looked like or what it was like to stand on the Great Wall, I can describe the thorny path of a grandmother's mind as she reminisces about her family, the shadowed roads of doubt of a child fearful of the future, the hidden caverns of dreams of your asocial nerd.
I'm honored to have walked with my fellow travelers as we helped each other down life's roads. My appreciation for life originates in my love of people. I may have lost one right shoe, but I have gained dozens of new pairs.
I think it's very good. You have a story that is very interesting to read, and it captures the audience. However, I find the part about the crooked walking a bit confusing. It almost sounds like that is the beginning of the story the dad is beginning to tell you. Also, maybe you should try explaining the crooked walking; why it is there in the first place
Nice essay! Overall it looks pretty good, you've got some longer sentences you might want to rephrase so they don't sound awkward or run-on, but great job I enjoyed reading this! Also, I agree with the above poster; I think maybe you should elaborate a bit more on your crooked walking and how it affected you or what it was to you.
Good job though! Thanks for checking out my essay (:
