My Memories Of My Life

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Have you ever had moments in your life when your own courage or someone else’s courage put you in awe? Was it that moment you saw firefighters rushing down the street to unknowingly help strangers in a burning building? Or, when you saw your baby brother finally build up the courage to ride a bike without training wheels for the first time? For many, the world “courage” has boundless meanings. Courage helped me become a woman and to close a roughly written chapter in my life I thought I could never close. I’m lying in bed late on a Wednesday morning. My head is pounding from staying up late crying the night before. I feel ashamed because I haven’t gone to school in three days, but I shake off my feeling and try to digest everything from the previous night. I hear footsteps coming down the hall. For some reason, I hold my breath waiting for the inevitable news to arrive at any moment. It’s my sister, with a tourniquet in one hand and a stethoscope in the other asking me to be her fake patient to test her new skills she learned in nursing school out on. I play along; it’s refreshing not having to hear about hospice care and funeral arrangements. Afterwards, I go look at myself in the mirror. I have puffy red eyes from crying, along with beautiful dark circles from many sleepless nights. My skin is pale and my cheeks are rosy. Any trace of an optimistic, youthful teenager gone. I climb back into my twin size bed just to hear another round of footsteps coming down the hall.

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