Imagine looking through a window at any environment that is particularly significant to you. Reflect on the scene, paying close attention to the relation between what you are seeing and why it is meaningful to you. Please limit your statement to 300 words.
As snowflakes fall outside the fog-stained glass, I look inside the window onto the still waters of childhood, through the clear waters of my Middletown YMCA.
Here, I took my first swim lesson and braved the watery deep. Here, I swam a furious backstroke and twenty-lap five-hundred yard freestyle . Here, I touched the wall hundredths of a second before my competitor and learned the meaning of teamwork.
Of course, the pool would mean nothing without the people.
My brother and I, only one year apart, spent a majority of our childhood on the pool deck during swim meets. We socialized, made friends, ate snacks, and played card games. My brother's cheers propelled me to break my personal record in the 100 backstroke. And my mom would be in the stands, waiting for me with a hot thermos.
The start of each meet would be signaled by fifty Northern Middlesex Barracudas swimmers dancing to strains of the Village People's Y.M.C.A. My supportive teammates, an entire team would adopt disco poses in Speedos atop starting blocks.
After every swim, each coach had advice on improving my stroke. Coach Lin, a breast cancer survivor, would say, "you've got legs-now use 'em". And Head Coach Laura would say, "This isn't no Sunday swim", in short, speed up my tempo.
During evening practices, I would look outside those windows and catch a glimpse of snow, soft flakes falling down, illuminated by streetlights..."Snow's here!", coach called while shoveling snow into the pool deck. The coaches bring buckets of snow into the poolside, and for a minute, we'd have a snowball extravaganza.
Only now do I realize the importance that place had for me. Looking on the still waters, I now realize the determination, competitive spirit, and joy my childhood swim team has instilled in me. An elusive environment encouraged by family, swimmers, and coaches can turn a quiet poolside into a furious meet, supportive network, and for a few precious practices--a snowy wonderland.
As snowflakes fall outside the fog-stained glass, I look inside the window onto the still waters of childhood, through the clear waters of my Middletown YMCA.
Here, I took my first swim lesson and braved the watery deep. Here, I swam a furious backstroke and twenty-lap five-hundred yard freestyle . Here, I touched the wall hundredths of a second before my competitor and learned the meaning of teamwork.
Of course, the pool would mean nothing without the people.
My brother and I, only one year apart, spent a majority of our childhood on the pool deck during swim meets. We socialized, made friends, ate snacks, and played card games. My brother's cheers propelled me to break my personal record in the 100 backstroke. And my mom would be in the stands, waiting for me with a hot thermos.
The start of each meet would be signaled by fifty Northern Middlesex Barracudas swimmers dancing to strains of the Village People's Y.M.C.A. My supportive teammates, an entire team would adopt disco poses in Speedos atop starting blocks.
After every swim, each coach had advice on improving my stroke. Coach Lin, a breast cancer survivor, would say, "you've got legs-now use 'em". And Head Coach Laura would say, "This isn't no Sunday swim", in short, speed up my tempo.
During evening practices, I would look outside those windows and catch a glimpse of snow, soft flakes falling down, illuminated by streetlights..."Snow's here!", coach called while shoveling snow into the pool deck. The coaches bring buckets of snow into the poolside, and for a minute, we'd have a snowball extravaganza.
Only now do I realize the importance that place had for me. Looking on the still waters, I now realize the determination, competitive spirit, and joy my childhood swim team has instilled in me. An elusive environment encouraged by family, swimmers, and coaches can turn a quiet poolside into a furious meet, supportive network, and for a few precious practices--a snowy wonderland.
