Sample college essays new york times

My father takes me down to the arroyo when I am so small that I do not yet reach his waist.

‘Slowly, my mother’s gingham apron began to look more like metal armor.’

My feet fumble across flaking desert skin and he pulls me along gently by my hand and tells me to be careful of small cacti and the bones of dead jack rabbits. He does not let me straddle the rift where the earth divides sample college essays new york times repelling mounds of sand. Instead, he slips his hands beneath my arms and swings me around in a half circle, his red face wrinkling into a smile.

That morning, my father had crept essas my room with the sun and shaken me into consciousness. It is minutes later now and we are trudging down an overgrown trail, tactfully descending the deep slopes of New Mexican land.

sample college essays new york times

Everything smells timew of mud and salt and soaked manure from the horse barn down the road. The arroyo is different than I have ever seen it.

sample college essays new york times

It is scattered with long, silver puddles. In the pink glow of the rising sun, the sand looks shiny and slippery. Around us, green tufts of vegetation burst from sample college essays new york times earth in unpredictable patterns and yellow wildflowers with thin stems knock softly against each other in the wind. My father tells me to wait and he steps down into the wet sand.

I watch as his sandals sink deep into the ground and leave long footsteps.

Grace Sundstrom

He crouches suddenly, and digs into the earth with a discarded stick. Then he stands, approaches me, and places in my hand something slimy and smooth.

sample college essays new york times

The rain washes them up. I look down at the strange triangular stone and wipe the sand from its surface. He lifts me up in his arms, carries me back toward the house.]