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"It's the most stressful time of the year..." "The Walk" "And He walks with me, and He talks with me, and He tells me I am His own, And the joy we share as we tarry there, none other has ever known."The night is delectably cool, a slight breeze is blowing, and all the day's homework has been done. Mom is upstairs putting on her shoes. "Mary, are you ready?" Her voice has a childishly excited undertone as it rings down the stairwell to where I am waiting at the door. We are preparing for the nightly ritual. Soon we will head outside to walk around the block a few times. That's it - the Carmichael family rite. There is no Hollywood-style female bonding, just a mother and daughter walking down the street side by side. |
 Moving in 9/1 Going to Class 9/8 Rated PG 9/15 Athletes Foot in Mouth 9/22 Shaken Not Stirred 9/29 Sleeping with the Enemy 10/6 Withdrawal Symptoms 10/13 Why Duke? 10/20 Par-ants Weekend 10/27 Halloween 11/3 Who Am I? 11/10 Travel Guide 11/17 Give Me a Break 11/24 Thank You 12/1 Campus Camp-out 12/8 Apply Yourself 12/15 Rushing Back to School 1/26 Chi-Omega Land 2/2 Apply Yourself #2 2/9 Three Month Itch 2/16 School Daze 2/23 Politics and Popularity 3/2 They Came They Saw, They Choked 3/9 Dating at Duke 3/16 Weekly Update 3/30 Beep Beep 4/6 Extra,Extra 4/13 Room to Move 4/20 End of the Innocense 4/27 Help Me 5/1 The Last Hurrah 5/8 |
| We started walking regularly after I had to quit dance class in order to balance my schedule. As a graduate of the Reader's Digest School of Medicine, Mom was utterly convinced that a nightly walk would be an easy way to keep us both in shape. For once, I must admit that she was right. Walking with Mom is often the only form of exercise I can get during the week, and it certainly does make it easier for us to justify the frozen Skor Bars we sometimes sneak after dinner when Dad isn't looking. But no matter how much weight this activity may have kept off my hips, it has lifted more from my shoulders. If I am worried, the first suggestion I hear from Mom is, "Let's go walking." Invariably, I feel much better after a brisk stroll around the block, and it isn't because of an elevated endorphin level. No, it's the sharing that always comes with a good mother-daughter walk that cures the anxiety. It sometimes seems to me that the motion of our feet makes it easier for our hearts to move, too. The conversations we have are incredible - I often wonder what those people who "can't walk and chew gum at the same time" would think of our talks! The topics of conversation run the gamut from tomorrow's breakfast plans to career plans to why Frank (or Matt, or Scott, or any other boy of the moment) hasn't called me recently. And whatever we are talking about, we know that we have each other's undivided attention. Considering our busy lives, that is something to treasure in itself. Sometimes my dad joins us on our excursions. This is a rare occasion, and deserves special celebration - we usually celebrate by walking a little more slowly so he can keep up with us. We've developed such a synchronized pace from our many nights of practice that Dad has trouble adapting to it. We tease him a little about his lack of rhythm. He, in turn, teaches us a military change-step from his college days so we can get on his beat. We laugh and continue with our own pace as he realizes that he is outnumbered. Tonight is a special night, though. Mom and I have been bad - we've skipped the last two nights in favor of traditional (separate) Friday and Saturday night activities - and we'll have to make up for it somehow. I suggest that we walk three times around the block instead of two. She suggests that we don't and say we did. I agree. We head outside, bracing ourselves against the cold and wishing we hadn't been in too much of a hurry to put on our jackets. Mom's shoes are squeaking. "I guess they're just getting too old for this much activity," she says, and her shoes give an extra squeak to punctuate the assertion. I realize, of course, that someday Mom herself will also be too old to walk beside me. And sooner than that, I will be walking in places where she can not join me - across the high school stage with a diploma in hand, into a messy dorm room (she will hate that mess), down the aisle to the strains of the wedding march. I know that Mom is just as excited as I am about these new developments about to take place in my life; this is why she has raised me. But I often wonder whom she will walk with when I am gone. Perhaps I should ask her. Perhaps we should go for another walk. -Mary Carmichael, copyright 1996 So that's my version of the essay (obviously, I chose the "write whatever you want" question.) But don't do just like me. Do whatever you want, whatever you think will show the admissions committee a little piece of yourself. And go for it. Good luck to all of you who are anxiously awaiting your ED letters (and congratulations to MIKEDAWG!) Have a great holiday season! I won't be around for the holidays, so I'll see you all in mid-January, in the middle of Sorority Rush. Bye now! | |
