Since the beginning of time fire has been deemed as the light of the world, providing a source of light and warmth that has assisted the human race in sustaining itself. The discovery of fire impacted generations of people from its variety of uses, versatility in shape, and ability to perform. Everyone has a distinct fire within themselves fueling their aspirations and goals. My fire, however, is hotter than most.
Prior to my parents' divorce, my direct family alongside my extended family would all congregate in a park known as “Fisheating Creek”, for a camping trip the weekend before Thanksgiving. It’s been a family tradition long before I was even a side-thought in the bustling minds of my parents. Being born into this family tradition felt natural considering I was simply brought along without any questions asked. As I age these memories become distant and more of a mirage of smiles and waves of laughter as children sang and parents roasted marshmallows for us by the huge fire which sat very welcoming in-between us all like a grandfather. The heat roared from sundown to sun up as uncles and step-brother added more wood and lighter fluid to the already burning flames.
It was the Tuesday before Thanksgiving and my pigtails were flying high as my four-year-old self bounced from person to person saying hi to everyone I could and begging someone to take me to the lake so I can play in the water. My mom had just finished making breakfast and the bacon sizzled as it got off the flame. I went rushing to my mother's side but sadly never arrived. I had been swallowed by the flames and screamed as my skin began to scorch. I’m not sure who exactly lifted me from my near death, but I’m grateful they did. My parents rushed to my side as my aunt had already dialed for 911 and they were on their way.
That year I spent Thanksgiving in the burn trauma center with second-degree deep tissue burns on my hands and much of my arms. After ten continuous days of treatment through both emergency reconstructive surgery and cosmetic surgery directly after. I spent the next year in and out of physical therapy because my hands were so weak they had borderline no use anymore. I had become so accustomed to using my feet and mouth to grab and move things that I had nearly forgotten what it was like to have hands at all. I worked relentlessly to regain full strength in my hands and eventually they were up to par with surrounding kids.
I had a second reconstructive surgery on both hands three months prior to my eighteenth birthday. Scar tissue had developed and was morphing my bones in a way where my fingers were not growing adequately. Once again I was back where I started, back in the hospital, back in physical therapy every week, and back in a position where I felt helpless and was unable to perform minor tasks at will. I don’t think anyone really appreciates the everyday usage of our body parts until they’re no longer able to execute the tasks they were once so proficient at. Even simple tasks like feeding yourself, bathing, and most degrading of all, wiping yourself are all a mission to complete when major parts of your body are not functioning. As cliche as it sounds, you genuinely don’t know how much you love something until it’s taken away.
I received one and a half out of the recommended six months of physical therapy I should have reaped, upon arriving at Florida State. The lack of physical therapy from my most recent surgery has left a lingering cloud of worry over my head because my hands may never regain the strength I already worked for years to improve. Although my hands may never be equipped to win in thumb wrestling or even nimble enough to take up a hobby like cross stitching, I'm forever grateful for what happened to me. I’m grateful that it was just my hands and not my face or the rest of my body. I’m grateful that it was only a severe second-degree burn and not a third degree. And I’m especially grateful for my mother who provided me with constant love and support through every meal she hand-fed me and every set of bandages she changed through my tears of agony. Perspective plays a large role in my personality, I’m always on the lookout for the silver lining, in even the worst of situations, and I pride myself on being someone who consistently looks at the glass as half full.
My ambition creates a sense of urgency so powerful that I never allow obstacles to prevent me from reaching my goals. I work day in and day out to perfect myself in all areas, from academics to swimming. I strive to reach new heights and even when situations appear to be unbearable I find myself pushing through. The fire within me is like no other and since the beginning of time fire has been deemed as the light of the world.