<p>Hey, I'm applying to Boston University ED and UNC-CH RD, and just wanted some extra sets of eyes to read my essay first! It's pretty personal but I like it that way, you're help is really appreciated :)</p>
<pre><code> On the verge of being able to distinguish right from wrong, I was handed a cardboard box. This box held the discarded moments of my mothers life, the parts she left behind with me for shiny dreams and Las Vegas promises. Do what you want with it; it doesnt fit in the Prius. These tokens and knick-knacks, when she had initially received them, had held certain emotional weights in her mind; they had been heavy and worth saving. Over time they had lost their heaviness and became her dead weight, thrown off the Prius into my simple-mindedly wide arms. Its all crap, so dont hope for much better in there. My dad took the box from me and she shut her door, severing the tie between me and her new, neatly-packaged life tied up in a shiny hybrid.
On my dads living room floor, I spread her trashed valuables in front of me, salvaging what I could. Half-used eyeliner, junk. Monopoly, junk. Jewelry box
my curiosity naturally struck, and when I raised the lid, the box held a blue, crystal-studded bracelet. This bracelet had been a mothers day gift months before, one I had traded my entire allowance for at Hallmark to show her I still cared. This cheaply-made, but affectionately given, bracelet was her dead weight, not molding into her starry-eyed aspirations, not even worth finding space for in a half-filled Prius.
Sighing, wishing to be unsurprised by my mothers actions, I searched deeper. I dug through the remains, expecting the worst from her, until her worst took a tangible form. The holy grail of unforgiveable actions sat before me in the shape of an infant-sized bracelet. The faded typeface read Jonathon Watson . Date of Birth: 11-20-02, and the all-too-well-known twinge of disbelief dawned on me: this bracelet was not just a meaningless impulse buy tossed half-wittedly; it was my brothers hospital bracelet from his birth, and mothers lowest point of integrity hidden below what we had seen she was capable of.
Yet, I still didnt feel as deserted as I had used to. I had gone from a dejected pre-teen desperately grasping for her mother to a conscious teen whod moved on from her only female role model. My heavyheartedness was pushed out, and I knew the only way to handle the box and its contents was to let it and my bitterness towards her go. The goal was not to hate my mother, it was to learn and not make the same mistakes, and I desired to reach the maturity level she never quite attained. Until that moment, Id had a mindset that everyone was inherently good, but with her toss of two bracelets into a small cardboard box, my misunderstanding was cleared. The sucker-punch was veiled by the overwhelming relief; a click I felt happen as I begun to understand the imperfect tendencies people naturally have.
I stowed away my cardboard box with unanticipated ease. Yes, it held discarded moments of my mothers life, but it was her old one. What was best for me was not attempting to push these mental weights onto her, nor was it stalling her westward-bound Prius endeavors, so I severed the tie myself, not allowing her the chance to beat me to it, and made her old mental weights my own. When my brother asks where his hospital bracelet from his birth is as he grows older, I can show him, and when I have a daughter of my own I can give her the bracelet I traded my entire allowance away for at Hallmark. Growing up and being a role model to my brother entailed letting go and making adult decisions when our own mom wouldnt. When my mother acted childish, she taught me how to be an adult, a lesson she may never realize she left behind with a silly little cardboard box.
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<p>Thank you so much for your help! Any tips or comments are greatly appreciated!</p>