High Above

Those steps had to lead somewhere, so up and up I went. Driven by curiosity, I followed the faint sound of a breeze and climbed a ladder attached to the wall. I could only hope that the rusted metal would hold my weight; it didn’t look like anyone had used it recently. As the knot in my stomach grew (from my fear of heights), I reached a small opening, one barely big enough for a person to crawl through.

I stepped out onto the rooftop of my forty-story apartment building to see the most beautiful sight I have ever seen. All of Panama lay out in front of me. I could see for miles and miles. I watched directly below the unsuspecting people go with their busy lives, trying to get through traffic in the city. Further out, I could see a dense tropical forest where small creatures thrive as their habitat. And, beyond that, the Panama Canal. This while the sun was going down, bringing colors of purple, pink, yellow, and orange to the sky.

As the day grew darker, rain clouds drew nearer. The moment I’ve been waiting for has come, to feel a chilly breeze and a light drizzle hit my face. By this time, my fear of heights was long forgotten and instead, I enjoyed the sensation.

This spot of power and serenity gives me time to meditate on the past, present, and future. But, at the same time, it is my escape and the reason is clear – it’s because I feel like I’m at the top of the world looking down on creation.

PB and J

Some people think it is childish to be eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich by the time you reach high school, but I don’t care. Besides, I’m still just a child; at least I wish to stay one for as long as I can. I’m in no hurry to grow up. And bringing a peanut butter and jelly sandwich to school everyday gives me the sense of security that my mom will always be there to make one for me.

But, honestly, it wasn’t the appreciation for my mom’s lunches that made me fall in love with these sandwiches. Actually, it was the day I complained to her about having this for lunch everyday. In an act of rebellion, I decided that I was tired of eating these “things,” and that I would not eat another one. I went out of my way to buy myself a warm chicken sandwich from the bakery, even though my PB and J was waiting in my backpack. I was so content with my three-dollar sandwich that I completely forgot I had brought a lunch. Thus, throughout the day my sandwich sat at the bottom of my backpack, underneath my chemistry, calculus, and government textbooks. Can you imagine what it went through while I ran up and down the stairs to get to my classes? At the end of the day I discovered what had to be my PB and J sandwich. From the outside, the plastic bag looked like someone had thrown up in it. Inside the baggy, the soft, airy bread was smashed, with a crease from where the edge of my textbook had been. And the jelly had soaked through the middle, as well as overflowed on the sides. I actually felt sorry for it.

I have no idea why I didn’t throw it away right then. Maybe I felt guilty for not eating the sandwich my mom had taken the time to make. I know it isn’t hard to make: put peanut butter on one slice of bread and the jelly on another, then stick them together. But for some reason I ended up putting the sandwich back in my backpack, even though I had no intention of eating that pitiful, disfigured thing.

That same day I had basketball practice after school. I was not expecting the intense fitness training our coach put us through and about ten minutes from the start I needed some kind of nutrition in my body to keep me from feinting. By the end of the practice, I was starving: our coach had really worked us hard. I looked in my wallet, nothing. I had used my last three dollars on my chicken sandwich. I should’ve saved that money. As my stomach started to growl furiously, I reached into my backpack in disbelief. Was I really thinking of eating that disgusting thing?

I had no choice. I told myself that once the PB and J was in my stomach its looks wouldn’t matter.

I took the sandwich out, holding it at arm’s length and inspecting it with one eye open. I hoped that it hadn’t rotted in the heat of the gym. Surprisingly, it didn’t look as bad as I thought it had been. Of course, it was still a little smashed and the peanut butter and jelly were all over the place, but other than that, it was safe to eat. I opened up the Ziploc bag, and a stuffy whiff of warm peanuts greeted me. Then, cautiously, I opened my mouth.

I’ll never forget that moment I took the first bite into that warm sandwich and licking up the jelly that oozed out on the side. It was amazingly mouth-watering. That was perhaps, the best sandwich I’d ever eaten.

Friends and teachers have made fun of my PB and J’s, but I know they’re jealous because they don’t get to eat one of these everyday. I know what they’re thinking: their eyes give it away. I can tell they are asking themselves: “She’s a senior in high school and she still brings PB and J to school?” Despite these looks, I pull out my sandwich everyday and eat it because I remember the day a compressed mush of peanut butter and jelly saved me from starvation.

What Made The Difference

"The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life… I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% of how I react to it."

- Charles R. Swindoll

“Erica, do you remember when we visited Panama? It was a long time ago,” my dad asked as we drove around in beautiful Torrance, California.

“Yeah, I think so,” but actually, I couldn’t remember at all.

I didn’t know what my dad was trying to get to so I just went along with it. I had no idea that his next couple of words would change my life forever.

“Well, we might be moving there,” was nothing close to what I expected him to say. I thought he was going to tell me a funny story in exchange for accompanying him to the hardware store on a Sunday afternoon.

I was not prepared for such nerve-wrecking news. I didn’t know what to say. My mind was blank, then, suddenly, images of my friends and all the great times we would have in the future sped through my mind.

Immediately, I knew that we would be moving. If my father wasn’t sure, he never would have mentioned it.

The idea of moving affected me more than I thought it would. It was emotionally straining to have to accept the fact that, come June, I would be living in a different country. Defiantly, I decided that I would only move to Panama on the condition that I would be able to visit my hometown every summer. But, the harder I tried to hold on, the worse I felt about moving. It didn’t help that the year seemed to be coming to an end faster than I thought it would. Before I knew it, I was on my way to Panama.

We moved to Panama from my home in sunny California because my dad had bought a shrimp farm. Why a shrimp farm? Or, better yet, why Panama? Who knows? And, to be honest, I still don’t and I’ve been living here for two years. Still yet, as much as I hated to leave California, I was excited to come to a new country: a totally new world and lifestyle. I guess it’s the wild and adventurous blood I inherited from my dad.

But, for the first time in a while, I was undecided on how I felt. I was torn between accepting a new, exciting life and holding on to the perfect one I had been living.

I knew that moving to Panama would be a great experience for me, but once I arrived I just wanted to get out. In my narrow-minded point of view, I came to believe that Panama was a horrible place to be, let alone living there. This was only because I was trying to find something wrong with what I saw. And as much as I wanted to have fun, I was stuck in the past.

One day, I stared at myself in the mirror and I could see the toll of what over-thinking had done to me. My negative outlook was my worst enemy, and I had been letting it win – it was obvious. I looked sad, not my usual self. It was only when I looked into the eyes of my reflection did I realize that I had to snap out of whatever I was going through and get back to reality. From that day on, I convinced myself to believe that there are good and bad things of every place, but I should respect every feature, good or bad, and love Panama for what it is.

With this new mindset, I quickly began to enjoy my time in my new environment. I’m proud to say that I have taken advantage of being here: I learned how to scuba dive, witnessed sea turtles come to shore to lay eggs, and I’ve even visited different countries in Central America. And these were only a few things that have helped me appreciate everything life has to offer me.

At the end of my first school year, the time finally came for me to take my trip back to California. I was so excited; I had many stories to share. That summer, while telling my friends about my adventures in Panama, I realized that I was living life to the fullest, at least for a 15 year-old. I had experiences that none of my friends even dreamed of – and all that time I had been wishing for a miracle to stop my family from moving. The real miracle was the move. That miracle changed my life, for the better. Because of the move, I’ve become a completely new person: worldly, open-minded, and appreciative.

Although the decision to move to Panama was not mine, I did have a choice on one matter: how I would live once I arrived. I’m grateful that I had been given this opportunity because this has been, by far, the most rewarding experience in my life. Not only because of what I have been able to do, but also because of what I’ve been able to learn. This move was a test of character, one that has taught me the most important lesson of all – it’s all about attitude.