Intimations of Immortality, William Wordsworth

I kind of hate this whole real-world, 'being an adult' thing. Not so much for my loss of freedom, because while I may not realize yet exactly what I'm getting into, I realize it's bigger than me, all-encompassing, and I'm whole-heartedly looking forward to it.

But it's a pity, isn't it, when our education, our attempt at bettering ourselves for the eventual benefit of not just ourselves but countless others, is poised to cost us an arm, a leg, potentially an entire small town out in the country? Where is the encouragement? (For some, even the most basic incentive).

Don't get me wrong -- I'm still excited about going to med school, and so grateful for the opportunities I've had and will have. But with my sister still looking to go to college, and my grandfather getting progressively worse, the situation looks awfully dreary sometimes. Especially late at night, during the moments of our most profound weakness.

My parents are being incredibly supportive and gracious about the process, the opportunities, even the assuredly monumental costs, both financial and otherwise. But is it even worth it to still consider Brown, in the event I get in? I don't want to be such a burden.

And I can't help but consider what they must be giving up in the process. Parents give up so much of their own individuality, happiness, dreams, for their children. I only hope I can one day provide my kids with the same boundless support and security my parents have given me.

I will still go to medical school, and do my best, for myself, for my parents, for everyone who has played a role, however small (for small never means inconsequential), in helping me get to where I am today. Because as my mother always says, this decision is about my life, my future, and therefore worth infinitely more than any price tag. The next several months, from now to graduation to matriculation, will be spent as much on giving thanks to the wonderful people in my life as to preparing for the next step in my journey.

And as a first step, thank you. From the very bottom of my heart, thank you.


Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower
...
Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
-William Wordsworth