Her Voice by Sydney

Her Voice by Sydney - June 2024 Scholarship Essay

They say the first thing to go is the voice. They’re wrong.

When they ask what she was like only one word comes to mind. Tough. She had to be. It’s how she balanced schoolwork, a job, and a child -- when she was but a child herself. Or when her husband went to Seattle for a year, and she was left with two wailing little kids. Fists balled, backs hunched, eyes red. Two ungrateful kids who spent their hours missing their dad instead of loving their mom. She taught me resilience. To survive without handouts and a helping hand. To know that hope can’t be broken or destroyed, just hidden -- waiting to be found again.

With whispers, with yells, even with silence, she was the maestro of saying “no”. She conducted her symphony with the fairy wand I begged her for when I was five. The one I sat on the Dollar Tree floor pouting about as she peacefully walked through the aisles. She knew that my dire need for a magical fairy wand would be long forgotten when her lessons of self-restraint finally clicked. When I understood what is and isn’t worth fighting for. She was right.

When her patience was strong enough, she even let me tag along on her walks. The ones she went on with her friends exploring the boring suburban hills as if they were traveling the bustling Paris streets. And if I was fortunate enough, I got a turn with her earbuds. The ones that blasted her beloved iHeart Radio channel. My classmates may have been going to Disneyland and New York, but the excitement of listening to that sub-par radio channel? It was enough to erupt out of me. She showed me that the little things in life have been and will always be enough for me.

Every night you could find us sitting on the stained brown carpet of our living room floor watching our shows. Her sitting in the corner, me sprawled out on the floor. The wheels in my mind were constantly churning, trying to find commentary that could induce her snort-filled laughter, only pausing every so often to indulge in the Oreo bag sitting between us. Remembering her in that corner gets me through my hardships. It’s a peace and calm that keeps me grounded.

My mom.

As far as I’m concerned, that 80’s music, that deafening snort, and that crinkling Oreo bag? That is my mom’s voice, and that’s how I remember it. Not the way she said “goodnight,” “dinner’s ready,” or “time for school,” but that laugh, that music, and that Oreo bag. When I maintain my rigorous schedule I hear her. When I push myself to be a leader despite my social anxiety I hear her. When I help others in need I hear her.

That laugh, that music, and that Oreo bag.

It’s the same sounds I will hear as I throw up my cap at graduation and it’s the same sounds I will hear walking into my first college class at the University of Michigan. The lessons I learn during my time in college will allow me to gain experience and knowledge in Psychology and Neuroscience: two pathways that are bound to lead me down a life in which I can devote my time and imprint my love onto others just as my mom did to me. But, just as important as my future education at the University of Michigan, are the lessons my mom taught me, lessons I will keep with me throughout my academic and my personal life -- that laugh, that music, and that Oreo bag.