The following is a draft of an essay I need for a supplement on one of my applications. I think I did a decent job. But please tell me what you think.
Here goes...
Though I am a male of 17 years old, I can say shamelessly that I still sleep in the presence of stuffed animals in my room. The one which occupies the most prominent location—leaning over the headboard of my bed, propped up between the bed and the wall—is a calico-patterned lion named Callie. The name “Callie” is short for “Calliope,” the Greek mythological Muse of Eloquence. Callie was given to me at birth by my Yia-Yia (Greek for “grandmother”).
Yia-Yia was an effervescent, strong-willed lady who in her lucid days always wore a smile, despite the frailty that accompanies old age. Between my earliest recollections of her and her passing, not a day elapsed when she did not take fewer than 12 separate medications in order to battle her high blood pressure, dementia, and malfunctioning liver and kidneys, among other afflictions. Though she would sound upset and resistant when my mother implored her to take these pills, a grin would always immediately take up residence, showing that her orneriness was merely playful. Whenever we brought her to our house to celebrate someone’s birthday, we would make a game of bopping the deteriorating, helium-filled foil balloons back and forth. The balloon would jerk back and forth intermittently, Yia-Yia laughing sweetly with every hit.
Yia-Yia’s cheeriness continued long into her convalescence, but as her mind, memory, and comprehension of faces and voices waned, so too did the laughing lady who occupied much of my childhood. However, I do not dwell on memories of her last few months; she would not approve of it. Instead, I recognize her positive influence on me. Whenever I went to see her, I knew to be as polite and articulate as possible. Yia-Yia deserved an attentive grandson as cheery as she. Thus, my time around her helped to shape my current character and ethics. I try my hardest to be a polite, compassionate young man every day, because it is what she invited and respected. Though I may be ornery and loud at times, I mean no malice.
In addition to my efforts to be a good son, grandson, brother, friend, and citizen, I have also been blessed with the gift of a sophisticated vocabulary and keen writing skills, which brings me back to the notion of my stuffed lion. I have never slept a night in my bed without Callie watching over me. And I can’t help but wonder if deep in her cotton stuffing, the spirits of Yia-Yia and the Muse concert to ease my sleep and inspire me to act honestly and kindly in my waking hours.
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1 comment:
No one commented on this, and now, of course, I am too late. That is one of the most brilliant essays I have ever read.
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