I was born in a small town outside of Fort Lauderdale, Florida called, Plantation. It’s odd now, knowing that I’m almost 18 years old, that some of my first memories are from before I could talk. I remember sneaking out of my crib, quite vividly. I ran outside into the pool and garden area, bare, for all the surrounding neighbors to see. And I also had brief greetings with my favorite characters from Winnie the Pooh in Disney World.

But when I was two years old, my family moved to Michigan. I quickly made friends with the neighborhood kids and started a collection of Barbies and coloring kits. When I was four, I reached up to the garage fridge to grab a kite. Not fully thinking my action through, and the fact that I was no way near tall enough to grab the kite, I bit my tongue, and it soon began to gush in blood. That’s why I have a scar on the pink flesh in my mouth.

My little sister, Kristen, was also born when I was three. She was a real-life baby doll, and she was all mine. Wearing a soft yellow shirt with pears on, I fed my sister her baby food as she sat in the high chair. I thought I was her mom, as I moved the spoon into a circle motion saying, “here comes the car into the car wash,” when she would open her mouth wide, and I would lightly put it in her small, delicate mouth.

When I was four, I was a “Green Grasshopper” in my preschool, and one day, my dad came with me for a “Daddy and Me” event. We ate pancakes, went sledding down the hill in the back of the preschool, finger painted in shaving cream, and took several pictures, one of which is held in the album with all the other pictures that were taken of me in preschool.

I had possibly the best kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Waterfield, when I was five. Her kindness guided my light through elementary school, even before I was enrolled as a student. I have several fond memories of crafting, painting, playing music, singing the alphabet, and even beginning to read.

My third-grade teacher, Mr. Greer, who I still keep in touch with today, has always welcomed me to his classroom and even made spelling games fun. I remember a family raising baby chicks in his classroom, all of which were small, yellow, fuzzy bundles of poof. And even though every chick looked the same, the one I was always holding would be called “Chicky.” Mr. Greer taught me how to play checkers and even secretly gave me pieces from his secret stash of Crunch candy when no one was looking.

I used to have an obsession with sea animals, and after much begging and “trip presenting” with the family, I finally swam with a dolphin in fifth grade at Discovery Cove. And though nobody cared to swim with the dolphins at 5 p.m. after a hot, tiresome day of snorkeling and going down the lazy river, it was still one of the happiest moments I cherish. I asked my mom to buy every picture taken of myself with the dolphin, and I even managed to convince her to buy me a stuffed dolphin from the gift shop.

I broke my collar bone in a soccer game during my days playing in the AYSO league. Frantic and very upset, I came over to the sidelines to meet my mom, where she and my dad then decided to take me to the ER. I was given a sling, and even today, I still have the small bump of where I broke it.

I had a terrible sense of style when I was eleven, and looking back at old pictures, I am rather embarrassed. I used to roll up my jeans every time I wore them and matched it with a cartoon shirt from Justice, but I never cared. My yearbook from Central Woodlands is filled with compliments about those cartoon shirts.

I began horseback riding in middle school, as it was nearly every girl’s dream hobby. Little did I know, this hobby would turn into huge part of my life, as I continued on by showing competitively and even meeting Rudy, the horse that would be by my side all through high school.

Freshman year of high school, I struggled in math. Perhaps the lessons were too fast-paced, or maybe I just didn’t care. But throughout high school, I learned the important lesson that my education matters, and I should always put my best foot forward to succeed as far as I can in my academic career, even at times when I just don’t want to care.

And when I was fifteen, I met Mr. George in his English 10 class. Little did I know, this teacher would be one of the biggest influences in my life, as he chose me as his Editor in Chief for the school magazine, and he helped me find the college I will be attending in the fall. He became not only one of my biggest role models but also someone who I can call a friend.

But now I’m graduating high school, and beginning to reflect on my childhood memories and those who have made me who I am today. But in four years, after I graduate college, I’ll make more memories, and more memories when I begin my career, and more memories when I begin my family. This is only the beginning, and there will be even more memories to share in years to come.