<p>Hello, I am currently in the process of applying to colleges. Can someone please read my essay and tell me if it's okay or if I should write another. Any revisions are greatly appreciated. Let me know! I chose the 1st prompt. </p>
<p>I think of myself as a stalk of corn. It sounds odd, but since from a Haitian household getting referred to as some sort of vegetable or fruit by my elders isn’t quite uncommon.
A phrase used quite frequently by my granmè was ‘Sonje lapli ki leve mayi ou’. I never understood her, just some more Haitian Creole that rolled off her tongue too quick for me to grasp. While her attempts of teaching me Creole were fruitless, she effortlessly taught me the value of hard work, honesty, and integrity. Even in her last days, her strength was a force to be reckoned with. </p>
<p>It was a Tuesday when my granmè had a stroke and was admitted to the hospital in her city of Chicago. She had been there a week before we had gotten the chance to visit her. It was startling to see my granmè laying in that hospital bed. Even in her ill state, her eyes still gleamed with the strength she was born with. It was August 11, 2014 when I spent the day by my granmè’s hospital bed, making sure she ate and trying to make her laugh by singing and dancing. It reminded me of the times she knelt by on the side of my bed countless nights chanting prayers for me to be healthy, strong, safe, and successful. Even with her broken English and dark skin, all four foot eleven of her was fearless. The doctor told us she was doing much better and it would be okay for us to return home to Carbondale. When we returned home, we all slept soundlessly, the words of the doctor calming our worried minds. My mother came into my room around three a.m. telling us we had to go back to Chicago at that very moment. I was paralyzed with the thought that the worst had happened, but I obeyed as we piled into the car. We were an hour into our 6 hour journey when my mother’s tears burst out of her, none of us said a word but we all knew.</p>
<p>My family and Haitian families in general are extremely close. When I was younger I had no singular mother. I had my grandmother, my aunts, and cousins all taking care of me. With the help of all these women, and especially my granmè, I obtained the best qualities from each of them. I became resilient, opinionated, sagatious, and head strong. Even in my grandmother's death she taught me the most important lesson, I finally learned the meaning of the proverb 'Sonje lapli ki leve mayi ou’. It means: never forget the rain that made the corn grow. My granmè was the epitome of a strong and beautiful woman. She fashioned me into the person I am and is a template of the person I hope to become. She is the rain that made me grow. Just like my granmè and the Caribbean Sea that kisses the shores of her hometown, I am bold, I am dauntless, I am powerful. I am the corn. </p>