Lorena's Scholarship Essay

Dozens of people cluster near the very edge of the rock. Cameras and phones are a must, and you mentally curse yourself for having forgotten yours.

Wind blows tirelessly against your face, whipping your hair in every direction. It smells of careless freedom, carrying with it the scents of nature. That cool, dewy scent that makes you close your eyes and be glad you rose at 3:00 a.m. to be here.

You open your eyes again, just a little bit, and bury your chin deep into your scarf. Looking at these people from a distance, you think of how they resemble a miniature version of the U.N., and find yourself trying to decipher their native languages from picking up broken conversations that gusts of wind bring back to you.

Japanese. French. English. Spanish. German.

It’s still dark. You lift your gaze to the sky but discover that there are no stars visible, only the bright orange horizon ahead of you; it makes you think of the vastness of the place. You wonder if this truly is the best spot, or if you should go exploring a little bit further; away from the crowds. Maybe you could find a quite place to share with yourself, sit at the edge of a rock and dangle your feet over the precipice. Getting lost in the enormity of these elderly rocks.

5:51 a.m.

Gasps and shuffling make you snap out of it. Should’ve thought about it before, kiddo. It’s almost time. You can hear an imaginary drumroll going on in your head. Impatient and eager, your eyes open completely now, silently demanding for a worthy panorama.

5:52 a.m.

The sun starts to rise deliberately from the rocks, and there’s clicking and shutter noises added to the background. It’s happening. The trees become alive and the rocks appear to change hues of bright pinks and oranges, as if they’re incapable of deciding what color to be today. Sunrays flood the landscape completely and you can’t help but think that it’s not just here, but a whole hemisphere being engulfed by light. It’s rising so quickly and it somehow clashes with the romantic image you expectantly created. “Not so fast, please! I forgot my camera!” You inwardly beg to no one in particular, while at last you feel the long craved warmth directly on your face and discover and that you have squinted your eyes again.

5:53 a.m.

The day has officially begun, the remaining spectators are taking the last pictures of the show, and meanwhile others get ready to start their morning, you feel like you’ve lived a thousand lives at the Grand Canyon.