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Personal Narrative: St. Patrick's Day Special Olympics Dance

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Imagine there is a bank that automatically deposits $86,400 into an account every morning. None of this money carries over from day to day. Any logical person would withdraw and take advantage of every last cent right? This bank represents time. Each day, I am credited with 86,400 seconds to make the most of. Once the sun rises the next day, I cannot go back and relive yesterday. It is not enough to live life only wishing for Friday to come faster, or for when it is time to settle into bed at night.
This philosophy of mine originated shortly after I got home from volunteering at my school’s annual St. Patrick’s Day Special Olympics Dance one night. Several hundred people clustered together under the dimmed lights of the dance floor; for many, the food and candid pictures were the highlights of the night. Although I too enjoyed the food, becoming friends with Trey, a fifteen-year-old boy with muscular dystrophy, was beyond a doubt the highlight of mine. …show more content…

I cannot remember any moment throughout the night where I looked over and saw anything other than a smile spread across his face. At one point, he and I were dancing with a group of friends; Trey stopped me mid-Macarena, grabbed my hand, and pulled me away from the source of the booming music to have a chat. He told me his entire life story: from how he looked up to his older sisters to how he wanted to dance normally with everybody else around him. Once finished, he wished to learn everything there was to know about me. “Tell me about yourself,” Trey said, scooting closer to me on the bench. I chuckled and told him I had a big family, enjoyed school, and liked the color blue. “No, really tell me about yourself. Tell me about your friends, your beliefs...” and so I

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