167. Imagine you have written a short story, film, or play about your last four years. Briefly describe the moment or scene that you think your audience will most remember after they have finished this autobiographical piece. What will they learn about you from that moment? (Northwestern)
From the time we heard from the doctor that my aunt is a cancer patient at the last stage, the smiles don't seem like smiles. We pretend to know nothing in front of my aunt who does not know anything about the spread of cancer cells throughout her body. I look around the room in silence. My little cousin brother runs towards her mom in bed calling out "mommy, mommy!" and my uncle tries his best to stop my brother from hugging my aunt. Crying out louder, my brother tries to reach his only mom. From the room, I spot my mom leaving quietly. I notice what I haven't noticed: her tears falling down the cheeks.
After a horrible spurious time of happy mood, my mom and I decide to spend the night with my aunt. My grandmother forcefully drags my cousin brother. With heavy bags packed with my brother's clothes and quotidian, she leaves the hospital with a gloomy expression on her face, holding my brother's hands. As I watch her walking from her back, I notice that her shoulders are sunk and her walking is unbalanced with tripping legs.
I look up at the sky. Cold and dark, the sky is filled with starts shining so brightly that I feel there's nothing wrong going on in this world except with my family. I wonder what I am doing for my family. Should I get a job? Come back to Korea permanently? Help taking care of my little brother? At that moment, I spot a shooting star. Following the star falling and disappearing right on top of the red cross of the hospital, my eyes spark with a new determination to accomplish something for me and my family.
From the time we heard from the doctor that my aunt is a cancer patient at the last stage, the smiles don't seem like smiles. We pretend to know nothing in front of my aunt who does not know anything about the spread of cancer cells throughout her body. I look around the room in silence. My little cousin brother runs towards her mom in bed calling out "mommy, mommy!" and my uncle tries his best to stop my brother from hugging my aunt. Crying out louder, my brother tries to reach his only mom. From the room, I spot my mom leaving quietly. I notice what I haven't noticed: her tears falling down the cheeks.
After a horrible spurious time of happy mood, my mom and I decide to spend the night with my aunt. My grandmother forcefully drags my cousin brother. With heavy bags packed with my brother's clothes and quotidian, she leaves the hospital with a gloomy expression on her face, holding my brother's hands. As I watch her walking from her back, I notice that her shoulders are sunk and her walking is unbalanced with tripping legs.
I look up at the sky. Cold and dark, the sky is filled with starts shining so brightly that I feel there's nothing wrong going on in this world except with my family. I wonder what I am doing for my family. Should I get a job? Come back to Korea permanently? Help taking care of my little brother? At that moment, I spot a shooting star. Following the star falling and disappearing right on top of the red cross of the hospital, my eyes spark with a new determination to accomplish something for me and my family.
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