I have always loved flowers with their cycle of life and the way they bring light to the world. Specifically, anthuriums, a Hawaiian flower, are my favorite kind as well as my mom’s. This plant can blossom into either a white, pink, or red-shaped heart which simply symbolizes the love and mother-daughter bond that we shared. Flowers are such interesting organisms because they need a space to be planted, time to grow to become flowers, then they return to the soil. This cycle repeats. Just like the cycle of cancer. My mom and I were always intrigued by this ongoing cycle because even when the flowers died, they would reproduce into the creation of even more flowers. Just like chemotherapy. My mother is a pure representation of anthuriums; she was a fully blossomed anthurium flower until her flower started to die. When I was five years old, my mother’s flower was diagnosed with stage four metastatic breast cancer. But with a little water, or, in her case, chemotherapy, my family and I were able to help with her recovery. It was not easy because, like flowers, it takes time to help the flowers to become healthy again. There were many obstacles to face like birds trying to eat away at her flowers, the overload of rain or heat, or people stepping on her flowers. She underwent various chemotherapies along with having thousands of pins and needles being struck through her skin during her treatments. As I was trying to play the gardener’s role in order to help her flowers to grow again, it was excruciating to witness such a magnificent flower enduring such great torment. Through all of the agony that the flower was surviving, she continued to keep on fighting to make her flower blossom again. I never understood how such a marvelous flower could suffer this greatly, it is not fair. Unfortunately, some flowers fight so hard to stay alive that they are unable to fight any longer. Just like in my mom’s hospital room with the sound of the heart rate monitor flatlining as the thunderstorm was so detrimental that she took her very last breath. I was only fifteen when her flower had decided that it was her time to leave. I felt angry and distraught as I saw my flower deteriorate right before my eyes. This flower was my everything: my world. I did not see the point in growing flowers ever again because it was too much of a risk to deal with another heartbreak. Until I realized that if I do not grow any more flowers, the love that my mom and I shared through anthuriums will forever be gone. So, on one gloomy day, I planted new anthurium seeds. I learned that I would not be the person I am today without having to undergo this heartbreak. I wanted to celebrate my mother’s life and make her proud, so I did. I decided to plant those seeds that had blossomed into the most breathtaking flowers that could ever be imagined. I started a donation page in honor of providing funding and awareness for the Breast Cancer Research Foundation. From here, this motivated me to make something of myself so I can live each day honoring her memory. Despite seeing my garden of anthuriums disintegrate before my eyes, I realize now that it is possible to turn rotten flowers into a cherishable gift. I strive to educate myself in the oncology field and help in finding a cure to make sure that everyone can have a garden filled with divine, yet warm-hearted anthuriums.

I have always loved flowers with their cycle of life and the way they bring light to the world. Specifically, anthuriums, a Hawaiian flower, are my favorite kind as well as my mom’s. This plant can blossom into either a white, pink, or red-shaped heart which simply symbolizes the love and mother-daughter bond that we shared. Flowers are such interesting organisms because they need a space to be planted, time to grow to become flowers, then they return to the soil. This cycle repeats. Just like the cycle of cancer. My mom and I were always intrigued by this ongoing cycle because even when the flowers died, they would reproduce into the creation of even more flowers. Just like chemotherapy. My mother is a pure representation of anthuriums; she was a fully blossomed anthurium flower until her flower started to die. When I was five years old, my mother’s flower was diagnosed with stage four metastatic breast cancer. But with a little water, or, in her case, chemotherapy, my family and I were able to help with her recovery. It was not easy because, like flowers, it takes time to help the flowers to become healthy again. There were many obstacles to face like birds trying to eat away at her flowers, the overload of rain or heat, or people stepping on her flowers. She underwent various chemotherapies along with having thousands of pins and needles being struck through her skin during her treatments. As I was trying to play the gardener’s role in order to help her flowers to grow again, it was excruciating to witness such a magnificent flower enduring such great torment. Through all of the agony that the flower was surviving, she continued to keep on fighting to make her flower blossom again. I never understood how such a marvelous flower could suffer this greatly, it is not fair. Unfortunately, some flowers fight so hard to stay alive that they are unable to fight any longer. Just like in my mom’s hospital room with the sound of the heart rate monitor flatlining as the thunderstorm was so detrimental that she took her very last breath. I was only fifteen when her flower had decided that it was her time to leave. I felt angry and distraught as I saw my flower deteriorate right before my eyes. This flower was my everything: my world. I did not see the point in growing flowers ever again because it was too much of a risk to deal with another heartbreak. Until I realized that if I do not grow any more flowers, the love that my mom and I shared through anthuriums will forever be gone. So, on one gloomy day, I planted new anthurium seeds. I learned that I would not be the person I am today without having to undergo this heartbreak. I wanted to celebrate my mother’s life and make her proud, so I did. I decided to plant those seeds that had blossomed into the most breathtaking flowers that could ever be imagined. I started a donation page in honor of providing funding and awareness for the Breast Cancer Research Foundation. Despite seeing my garden of anthuriums disintegrate before my eyes, I realize now that it is possible to turn rotten flowers into a cherishable gift. I strive to educate myself in the oncology field and help in finding a cure to make sure that everyone can have a garden filled with divine, yet warm-hearted anthuriums.

I have always loved flowers with their cycle of life and the way they bring light to the world. Specifically, anthuriums, a Hawaiian flower, are my favorite kind as well as my mom’s. This plant can blossom into either a white, pink, or red-shaped heart which simply symbolizes the love and mother-daughter bond that we shared. Flowers are such interesting organisms because they need a space to be planted, time to grow to become flowers, then they return to the soil. This cycle repeats. Just like the cycle of cancer. My mom and I were always intrigued by this ongoing cycle because even when the flowers died, they would reproduce into the creation of even more flowers. Just like chemotherapy. My mother is a pure representation of anthuriums; she was a fully blossomed anthurium flower until her flower started to die. When I was five years old, my mother’s flower was diagnosed with stage four metastatic breast cancer. But with a little water, or, in her case, chemotherapy, my family and I were able to help with her recovery. It was not easy because, like flowers, it takes time to help the flowers to become healthy again. There were many obstacles to face like birds trying to eat away at her flowers, the overload of rain or heat, or people stepping on her flowers. She underwent various chemotherapies along with having thousands of pins and needles being struck through her skin during her treatments. As I was trying to play the gardener’s role in order to help her flowers to grow again, it was excruciating to witness such a magnificent flower enduring such great torment. Through all of the agony that the flower was surviving, she continued to keep on fighting to make her flower blossom again. I never understood how such a marvelous flower could suffer this greatly, it is not fair. Unfortunately, some flowers fight so hard to stay alive that they are unable to fight any longer. Just like in my mom’s hospital room with the sound of the heart rate monitor flatlining as the thunderstorm was so detrimental that she took her very last breath. I was only fifteen when her flower had decided that it was her time to leave. I felt angry and distraught as I saw my flower deteriorate right before my eyes. This flower was my everything: my world. I did not see the point in growing flowers ever again because it was too much of a risk to deal with another heartbreak. Until I realized that if I do not grow any more flowers, the love that my mom and I shared through anthuriums will forever be gone. So, on one gloomy day, I planted new anthurium seeds. I learned that I would not be the person I am today without having to undergo this heartbreak. I wanted to celebrate my mother’s life and make her proud, so I did. I decided to plant those seeds that had blossomed into the most breathtaking flowers that could ever be imagined. I started a donation page in honor of providing funding and awareness for the Breast Cancer Research Foundation. Despite seeing my garden of anthuriums disintegrate before my eyes, I realize now that it is possible to turn rotten flowers into a cherishable gift. I strive to educate myself in the oncology field and help in finding a cure to make sure that everyone can have a garden filled with divine, yet warm-hearted anthuriums.

I have always loved flowers with their cycle of life and the way they bring light to the world. Specifically, anthuriums, a Hawaiian flower, are my favorite kind as well as my mom’s. This plant can blossom into either a white, pink, or red-shaped heart which simply symbolizes the love and mother-daughter bond that we shared. Flowers are such interesting organisms because they need a space to be planted, time to grow to become flowers, then they return to the soil. This cycle repeats. Just like the cycle of cancer. My mom and I were always intrigued by this ongoing cycle because even when the flowers died, they would reproduce into the creation of even more flowers. Just like chemotherapy. My mother is a pure representation of anthuriums; she was a fully blossomed anthurium flower until her flower started to die. When I was five years old, my mother’s flower was diagnosed with stage four metastatic breast cancer. But with a little water, or, in her case, chemotherapy, my family and I were able to help with her recovery. It was not easy because, like flowers, it takes time to help the flowers to become healthy again. There were many obstacles to face like birds trying to eat away at her flowers, the overload of rain or heat, or people stepping on her flowers. She underwent various chemotherapies along with having thousands of pins and needles being struck through her skin during her treatments. As I was trying to play the gardener’s role in order to help her flowers to grow again, it was excruciating to witness such a magnificent flower enduring such great torment. Through all of the agony that the flower was surviving, she continued to keep on fighting to make her flower blossom again. I never understood how such a marvelous flower could suffer this greatly, it is not fair. Unfortunately, some flowers fight so hard to stay alive that they are unable to fight any longer. Just like in my mom’s hospital room with the sound of the heart rate monitor flatlining as the thunderstorm was so detrimental that she took her very last breath. I was only fifteen when her flower had decided that it was her time to leave. I felt angry and distraught as I saw my flower deteriorate right before my eyes. This flower was my everything: my world. I did not see the point in growing flowers ever again because it was too much of a risk to deal with another heartbreak. Until I realized that if I do not grow any more flowers, the love that my mom and I shared through anthuriums will forever be gone. So, on one gloomy day, I planted new anthurium seeds. I learned that I would not be the person I am today without having to undergo this heartbreak. I wanted to celebrate my mother’s life and make her proud, so I did. I decided to plant those seeds that had blossomed into the most breathtaking flowers that could ever be imagined. I started a donation page in honor of providing funding and awareness for the Breast Cancer Research Foundation. From here, this motivated me to make something of myself so I can live each day honoring her memory. Despite seeing my garden of anthuriums disintegrate before my eyes, I realize now that it is possible to turn rotten flowers into a cherishable gift. I strive to educate myself in the oncology field and help in finding a cure to make sure that everyone can have a garden filled with divine, yet warm-hearted anthuriums.

I have always loved flowers with their cycle of life and the way they bring light to the world. Specifically, anthuriums, a Hawaiian flower, are my favorite kind as well as my mom’s. This plant can blossom into either a white, pink, or red-shaped heart which simply symbolizes the love and mother-daughter bond that we shared. Flowers are such interesting organisms because they need a space to be planted, time to grow to become flowers, then they return to the soil. This cycle repeats. Just like the cycle of cancer. My mom and I were always intrigued by this ongoing cycle because even when the flowers died, they would reproduce into the creation of even more flowers. Just like chemotherapy. My mother is a pure representation of anthuriums; she was a fully blossomed anthurium flower until her flower started to die. When I was five years old, my mother’s flower was diagnosed with stage four metastatic breast cancer. But with a little water, or, in her case, chemotherapy, my family and I were able to help with her recovery. It was not easy because, like flowers, it takes time to help the flowers to become healthy again. There were many obstacles to face like birds trying to eat away at her flowers, the overload of rain or heat, or people stepping on her flowers. She underwent various chemotherapies along with having thousands of pins and needles being struck through her skin during her treatments. As I was trying to play the gardener’s role in order to help her flowers to grow again, it was excruciating to witness such a magnificent flower enduring such great torment. Through all of the agony that the flower was surviving, she continued to keep on fighting to make her flower blossom again. I never understood how such a marvelous flower could suffer this greatly, it is not fair. Unfortunately, some flowers fight so hard to stay alive that they are unable to fight any longer. Just like in my mom’s hospital room with the sound of the heart rate monitor flatlining as the thunderstorm was so detrimental that she took her very last breath. I was only fifteen when her flower had decided that it was her time to leave. I felt angry and distraught as I saw my flower deteriorate right before my eyes. This flower was my everything: my world. I did not see the point in growing flowers ever again because it was too much of a risk to deal with another heartbreak. Until I realized that if I do not grow any more flowers, the love that my mom and I shared through anthuriums will forever be gone. So, on one gloomy day, I planted new anthurium seeds. I learned that I would not be the person I am today without having to undergo this heartbreak. I wanted to celebrate my mother’s life and make her proud, so I did. I decided to plant those seeds that had blossomed into the most breathtaking flowers that could ever be imagined. I started a donation page in honor of providing funding and awareness for the Breast Cancer Research Foundation. From here, this motivated me to make something of myself so I can live each day honoring her memory. Despite seeing my garden of anthuriums disintegrate before my eyes, I realize now that it is possible to turn rotten flowers into a cherishable gift. I strive to educate myself in the oncology field and help in finding a cure to make sure that everyone can have a garden filled with divine, yet warm-hearted anthuriums.

I have always loved flowers with their cycle of life and the way they bring light to the world. Specifically, anthuriums, a Hawaiian flower, are my favorite kind as well as my mom’s. This plant can blossom into either a white, pink, or red-shaped heart which simply symbolizes the love and mother-daughter bond that we shared. Flowers are such interesting organisms because they need a space to be planted, time to grow to become flowers, then they return to the soil. This cycle repeats. Just like the cycle of cancer. My mom and I were always intrigued by this ongoing cycle because even when the flowers died, they would reproduce into the creation of even more flowers. Just like chemotherapy. My mother is a pure representation of anthuriums; she was a fully blossomed anthurium flower until her flower started to die. When I was five years old, my mother’s flower was diagnosed with stage four metastatic breast cancer. But with a little water, or, in her case, chemotherapy, my family and I were able to help with her recovery. It was not easy because, like flowers, it takes time to help the flowers to become healthy again. There were many obstacles to face like birds trying to eat away at her flowers, the overload of rain or heat, or people stepping on her flowers. She underwent various chemotherapies along with having thousands of pins and needles being struck through her skin during her treatments. As I was trying to play the gardener’s role in order to help her flowers to grow again, it was excruciating to witness such a magnificent flower enduring such great torment. Through all of the agony that the flower was surviving, she continued to keep on fighting to make her flower blossom again. I never understood how such a marvelous flower could suffer this greatly, it is not fair. Unfortunately, some flowers fight so hard to stay alive that they are unable to fight any longer. Just like in my mom’s hospital room with the sound of the heart rate monitor flatlining as the thunderstorm was so detrimental that she took her very last breath. I was only fifteen when her flower had decided that it was her time to leave. I felt angry and distraught as I saw my flower deteriorate right before my eyes. This flower was my everything: my world. I did not see the point in growing flowers ever again because it was too much of a risk to deal with another heartbreak. Until I realized that if I do not grow any more flowers, the love that my mom and I shared through anthuriums will forever be gone. So, on one gloomy day, I planted new anthurium seeds. I learned that I would not be the person I am today without having to undergo this heartbreak. I wanted to celebrate my mother’s life and make her proud, so I did. I decided to plant those seeds that had blossomed into the most breathtaking flowers that could ever be imagined. I started a donation page in honor of providing funding and awareness for the Breast Cancer Research Foundation. From here, this motivated me to make something of myself so I can live each day honoring her memory. Despite seeing my garden of anthuriums disintegrate before my eyes, I realize now that it is possible to turn rotten flowers into a cherishable gift. I strive to educate myself in the oncology field and help in finding a cure to make sure that everyone can have a garden filled with divine, yet warm-hearted anthuriums.

Peanuts, nuts, a common food that most people in our world fairly enjoy. But one little nut could do so much harm to a person, especially a person, like me, who is deadly allergic to them. I was traveling internationally for my Team USA synchronized figure skating team, and nuts were everywhere! I had come to learn that peanuts and tree nuts are, apparently, some of the most enjoyed foods in Europe. During my time in Britain, for a figure skating competition, I had remained successful in staying away from nuts. This was all up until the plane ride home from Britain, after my team and I competed. For those of you who do not know, on international flights, there is always food offered. I received chicken with sauce and rice. I had just eaten the rice. But not long after five minutes of eating my rice, I started feeling little bumps on my lips and tongue. There I was, I was having an allergic reaction, and it was to peanuts. I knew that I was now in for a long flight home gave that there were still nine hours of the flight left and I had no parents with me at the time. During this time in my life, this was when my mom had recently passed away from her battle of stage four metastatic breast cancer. So, I was undergoing one of the lowest points of my life. And it was not soon until my allergic reaction heightened and I was then covered in hives and red rashes from head to toe. The allergic reaction was completely taking over my body as I was nauseous and overheating while having to withstand the chaos of the British flight attendants who were frantically yelling at me. I was so flustered, but I refused to give up during my fight against this allergic reaction. My memories of my mom were vivid, and it made me think of how she fought through her battle with cancer. So, with that encouragement, I was determined to overcome it. Although this reaction was out of my control, I tried to not let this defeat me, physically and mentally. The constant thought that I could die lurked in my head for every second of that plane ride. I kept a positive mindset, as I had to keep telling myself, "I am not going to let a little nut be the way that I die" At the end of the flight, I came to the realization that I almost died. This had me starstruck and I was grateful to have survived. With having a persevering attitude, I was able to fight through and survive my flight ride home of horror.