My College Essay (Best piece of work in English class)

Meditation

Hope
I looked around hoping to find a way to escape. Unfortunately, someone, I believe it was my father, dragged me to check in with him. Tears rolled down my eyes slowly reaching my cheek. I realized that we just left something behind, something very important: my mom. Every memory of my mom flooded a space in my brain. I told myself that I could never forget the look of my mom, especially on the day of my departure. I inscribed her red nose, watery eyes, and trembling “Good Byes” in my heart. I ensured her position in my heart and I somehow arrived in United States, on May, 13th, 2002 at the age of 12.

When I was little, I always noticed kids riding bikes and enjoying themselves. I envied their enjoyment of traveling free and feeling the wind. I imagined the freedom of biking as the freedom of life: to seek, to risk, and to accomplish. One day when I was five, my mom brought a bike home and I almost screamed when I first saw it. As I was making different poses with the bike, my mom dared me to ride the bike. With only my tricycle experiences, I fell on the ground quickly and my knees bled. Feeling the pain, I shouted: “I hate biking, and I will never bike again!” Immediately, my mom’s face fell. She walked toward me and said gently “My little Shuyi, I hope one day you’ll understand that life is like biking, it costs you pain for accomplishing. But remember: never give up even when there are great pains.”

Within a year of my arrival to the United States, my father remarried another woman, breaking the promise of bringing my mom to the United States. I remember crying that night after I discovered the news. I blamed my father for destroying everything and I told myself that I would never forgive him. How was my life going to be? How was my mom’s life going to be? How would my mom react when she learned the news? And what should I do? These unanswerable questions flowed through my mind.

Not long after my father’s marriage, a friend of mine brought me to a Chinese Christian church. There were a lot of kind and helpful people. They encouraged me to not worry about my mom’s situation and taught me a way of applying my mom to the United States. They told me that once I became 18 and a US citizen, I’d have the ability to apply for my mom. With the encouragement from both church friends and my mom, I was able to step out of the dark. I said to myself, I can be the one who makes changes for my life and I can take the lead.

I changed my view toward the world. I realized that life is not totally dim. Although it sometimes requires pain, it can also be the most colorful rainbow. I endured what has happened in my life and I opened my heart. I even forgave my father about two years ago. On his 44th birthday, while no one was celebrating for my father, I baked a cake and cooked a simple meal for him. It was only an “Angel Cake” and a few Chinese dishes. But my father gave me his brightest smile. Seeing his smile, I felt that all the hatred was miraculously gone. I realized that hatred is no longer important. Finally, I relaxed my burdened heart after all these years. For the first time, I was committed to retain memories about my father: I inscribed his smile in my heart.

It has been five years now since my arrival to the United States. I have to conclude that I’ve learned tremendously during these years. I understand my father’s not applying for my mom is not the end of the world. I understand hatred wouldn’t benefit anyone. And I understand being open-minded is as important as getting good grades in school. As always, I remind myself of the responsibility to apply my mom to the US. I know the process will take time, but I’m happy to tell that I’ve already started my first step: I’m applying for the United States citizenship. I know my hope is coming along, and I believe my reunion with my mom will be precious after all these years.