Simply Complex

"I just don't know what to do Rach," I sputtered through my tears, "I'm literally so scared."

She sat there on my bunk, my head in her lap, her eyes cast downward toward the mattress on the floor. For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then I heard her take in a shaky breath, as the door was opened, and my camp roommate came in, intending to turn in for the night. Rachel spoke up, and asked if she would wait just a minute, and thankfully, she consented, closing the door behind her as she went.

Rachel turned to me, and through the fog of tears in my own eyes, I saw her large brown eyes glistening, yet they were looking hard at me.

"How long has it been since...you know.." she stammered. I couldn't meet her eyes; I felt so ashamed of myself. Instead of answering her, I began to cry harder. I felt her hand resting on my shoulder, cool against my warm skin. We sat in that moment for what seemed like forever; eventually I calmed down enough that I could breathe normally again. I looked up into Rachel's face. She took a deep breath and wiped away the tears lingering on her cheek. Then she spoke, with a voice I had never heard before. I think she may have even surprised herself, judging by the way her words flowed so much more easily than usual.

"I don't know what to say," she began, "but all that matters right now is that you know that I am here for you, no matter what happens from here on out. I think that we just need to take this one day at a time, because all we can really do now is trust God for the best. We make our choices, we live with the consequences, but God is the only thing that will get us through our own messes."

I was taken aback by her words. This was the girl that always came to me with her problems, though I must admit, it did take some coaxing to get her to speak. She wasn't the type to just dump her problems on people; at least not until they asked. Even then, there was always something she held back. This was the girl that fell mute near strangers, and even around me, her talk consisted of frivolous things, things of no consequence to the value of life. Yet when she spoke that night, she did so with an even voice and a determined tone.

I sat up on my bunk, and she unfolded her legs and let them dangle to the floor. We talked for a few more minutes, and realizing that lights out had long since passed, she said good night and left me on my bunk, entering her adjoining room.

The next day, she wore a smile on her face, as if nothing had happened that night. Anyone who didn't know about our exchange would have thought so. I knew better, and when I looked in her eyes that morning, I saw the question in them.

"Are you okay?"

Personal Statement RD (insert witty title here)

There are few statements that I have chosen to commit to memory. Some have been ingrained into my mind by repetition, others go in one ear and out the other. But the few statements that I choose to hold on to came in the moments that I needed them most. To some people, a simple congratulation is something that leaves their mind as quickly as it entered. To me, being congratulated is an honor in of itself, especially when it comes from the most unlikely of sources.

I remember that night clearly. My team was out on the court, the bleachers were full of spectators from both our team and the opposing team. It was the last home game of the season, my last chance to really prove myself as a valuable part of the volleyball team. I remember sitting on that chair, the pleather surface sticking to my exposed thighs, my kneepads sliding down over my sweaty knees. My water bottle sat at my feet, the water inside untouched. I watched each volley, hoping that Coach would put me in the game, even just for a second, but I knew it was a long-shot. This wasn’t like my band class, where I could just set my flute down and pick up my trombone when I wanted to. I just didn’t have the physical aptitude Coach was looking for. I screamed my head off, cheering for the team I wanted so badly to belong to, when it happened. We lost the second set in the game, leaving us at a stalemate. Coach called me over to her chair. I looked in her hand, and my number was written on her rotation sheet. I was excited, but nervous. I was up to serve first. Out of all three seasons and all the summer camps I had been to, this was the one thing I had never mastered. None of my calculus experience had helped me to formulate how to do it correctly, and the laws of physics seemed to fail when the ball was in my hands. Nevertheless, I didn’t turn her down. This was my chance to prove myself.

Something I had learned long before this moment is that if one thinks about doing something too much, they will eventually talk themselves out of it. It had taken me years to learn how to ride a bike, simply because I was an over-thinker. But I learned to overcome my  overly cautious nature over time. It was in the milliseconds before my hand made contact with the ball that I remembered my bike. I realized that I had worked hard to get to where I was, and that even if this serve bounced back from the middle of the net, nothing could take away the pride I had in the fact that I had made it this far. To my utter shock and disbelief, the smack of my hand on the ball was not followed by a swish and a light thud; rather, it was followed by two loud thuds: the ball on the floor and the player who missed her dive. I had aced my serve. The rest of the game was a blur. I managed to land two more serves before I was subbed out for the next rotation, but I hardly noticed the cheers and whoops anymore. As I sat back down in my chair, Coach looked me in the eye and said one of the statements I will never forget. “Well done, Rache.” 

So simple a statement, but it was that statement that made the hellacious season I had gone through that year, even beyond volleyball, worth it. I had been trying for so long to please my coach, and I finally did, and I was proud of myself. I felt like I belonged. I had fought so hard  for something that I wanted. When I think about my future, I know that I won’t necessarily be good at absolutely everything, but I am willing to fight for what I want in this world. I am willing to do my best in everything I do, whether it is my strong suit or not.