Even though her body still lives, her soul roams free. She is a mannequin with a beating heart. She is a failed recreation of a painting that can never be recreated. When I was younger, painting was my muse. I sometimes had inspiration, and other times I free-styled, but my painting never had a meaning. Usually when people hear the word “strokes”, some connect it to the strokes of a painting. When I think of the word “strokes”, I think of what it took from me. When I was 10 years old, my aunt suffered her first stroke, the first stroke towards the painting. In my innocent eyes, she still seemed healthy, so I deemed the stroke as serious but harmless. I watched as she still managed to communicate with everyone, continued to go to church, and took me to scan her lottery tickets. Then another stroke happened, and then finally, the stroke that stripped away a part of me that I did not realize was gone until I was much older. Even though I was still ten years old, I ceased to feel like a ten year old. Life changed in an instant. Instead of feeling like I was home, I felt like a stranger in a strange land. With the medicine everywhere and accommodations for her limited mobility, I realized that this is my ‘new normal’. Everyone in the household had to get used to the change in our personal lives. Abrupt plans could not be made and schedules had to be set. In my eyes, we looked like nurses, taking shifts, waiting for the inevitable even while making sure she had the care she needed. I had to watch as this woman whom I knew as vibrant, healthy, and outgoing, turned into this fragile and childlike elder. To me, she felt like an imposter, stripping away the woman I truly knew, but I knew the imposter was here to stay. It took me a while to accept the state of my aunt's condition. I can admit, I used to be embarrassed and ashamed when my friends or outsiders would see her, because I never wanted my life to seem “flawed”. To me, it had looked as if I, little miss “perfect”, didn’t have the perfect life, but that wasn’t the case at all. There is no such thing as having the perfect life; I simply lived the life I was chosen to have. Now that I’m older, more knowledgeable, and more mature, I realized that I’ve had and have nothing to be embarrassed about, but instead, I have everything to be grateful for. While taking care of an elderly woman wasn’t a path I thought I would take, it gave me compassion and empathy for the people who do it on a daily basis, whether it is their job or taking care of a family member like me. For the many years she’s helped me, and the many years I’ve helped her, it gave me the inspiration to help others. Health care was always a path I knew I wanted to take, but I was never sure why. After having to help care for someone's health for so long, I finally realized why. While my aunt is still alive, but isn’t as verbal as most, she still manages to thank me. Her making an effort to speak, even though it’s tough, fills me with gratitude. She inspires me to make others feel appreciated. Having the ability to give appreciation is all that I strive to accomplish in life, and overall the meaning of my painting is.

Even though her body still lives, her soul roams free. She is a mannequin with a beating heart. She is a failed recreation of a painting that can never be recreated. When I was 10 years old, my aunt suffered her first stroke, the first stroke towards the painting. In my innocent eyes, she still seemed healthy, so I deemed the stroke as serious but harmless. I watched as she still managed to communicate with everyone, continued to go to church, and took me to scan her lottery tickets. Then another stroke happened, and then finally, the stroke that stripped away a part of me that I did not realize was gone until I was much older. Even though I was still ten years old, I ceased to feel like a ten year old. Life changed in an instant. Instead of feeling like I was home, I felt like a stranger in a strange land. With the medicine everywhere and accommodations for her limited mobility, I realized that this is my ‘new normal’. Everyone in the household had to get used to the change in our personal lives. Abrupt plans could not be made and schedules had to be set. In my eyes, we looked like nurses, taking shifts, waiting for the inevitable even while making sure she had the care she needed. Even though I wasn’t as connected with God as much as I am now, that was the start to connecting with him. I had to watch as this woman whom I knew as vibrant, healthy, and outgoing, turned into this fragile and childlike elder. There would be days where I would talk to God and ask “Why her? Why would you choose my family?” I couldn’t understand why he would put my family in this predicament. I would always hear my grandmother say “God does everything for a reason.” but I never understood why this was a part of it. As her health slowly declined, I started to pray more and go to church more often to fill her absence. This eventually led to me leaning closer with God and him showing me newer and better paths. It took me a while to accept the state of my aunt's condition. I can admit, I used to be embarrassed and ashamed when my friends or outsiders would see her, because I never wanted my life to seem “flawed”. To me, it had looked as if I, little miss “perfect”, didn’t have the perfect life, but that wasn’t the case at all. There is no such thing as having the perfect life; I simply live the life God created for me. Now that I’m older, more knowledgeable, and more mature, I realized that I’ve had and have nothing to be embarrassed about, but instead, I have everything to be grateful for. The faith my family and I put in God is allowing her to continue to live as much life as she can. While helping taking care of an elderly woman wasn’t a path I thought I would take, it gave me compassion and empathy for the people who do it on a daily basis, whether it is their job or taking care of a family member like me. For the many years she’s helped me, and the many years I’ve helped her, it gave me the inspiration to help others.

Resilience is something I've always had growing up. Living in a Christian household with my mother, grandmother, aunt, and cousin, faith and believing was taught to me. Despite being an only child, I've been taught to inspire others even when my drive for inspiration was low. In the past year I have moved to a new home with my mom as she is a single mother. living in Jersey City, New Jersey means that there aren't many single family homes to live in. My mother renovated our grandparents' two family house and turned it into one that her and I can live in. Within this move my cousins moved into the house as well. My little cousin, who is only in the fourth grade, has already been experiencing hardships in school. She has done things such as get suspended, be sent to the principal's office, as well as had her parents called multiple times. Every time I come home she always has a new story for me to listen to and every time I listen, I cannot feel sadness for her. I listen and watch as this little girl who hasn't even reached the age of ten talk about fighting, arguing with the teacher and overall things she shouldn't be doing as a young girl. The more stories she told me, the more I paid attention and started to help her. I would do things such as make bets with her in order for her to do things with me. One thing we did is that if she went a week without getting in trouble we can have a sleepover. Considering she sees me as a mentor and even an older sister she was able to go a week without any arguing or fighting and we were able to have the sleepover. During the sleepover, I even helped her with homework that she had that she couldn't figure out all on her own. Since moving to the new house, I've helped her expand her vocabulary, help her with math questions, and get her out of trouble so she can spend more time with me. The more we did these things the more her teachers as well as her parents started to see improvement in her behavior and her overall well-being. Recently she just earned a B+ on a test she had and I was the first person she told. While being an only child comes with its perks and privileges, being an “older sister” to her is a totally different feeling. Being able to help her has inspired me to help so many other children. Recently I started working at an after-school center where I can help children do their homework and anything else that I can help them with. Sometimes they even called me their “big sister” which makes me feel empowered. I hope to continue to inspire other children as I grow up.