Essays About Good

Her face is pale and tired, yet kind--not unlike my grandmother’s.I need only to smile and say hello to see her brighten up as life returns to her face.

Her face is pale and tired, yet kind--not unlike my grandmother’s.I need only to smile and say hello to see her brighten up as life returns to her face.

However, when the end inevitably arrived, I wasn’t trying to comprehend what dying was; I was trying to understand how I had been able to abandon my sick grandmother in favor of playing with friends and watching TV.

Hurt that my parents had deceived me and resentful of my own oblivion, I committed myself to preventing such blindness from resurfacing.

I write screenplays, short stories, and opinionated blogs and am a regular contributor to my school literary magazine, The Gluestick.

I have accumulated over 300 community service hours that includes work at homeless shelters, libraries, and special education youth camps.

Cancer, as powerful and invincible as it may seem, is a mere fraction of a person’s life.

It’s easy to forget when one’s mind and body are so weak and vulnerable.

Upon our first meeting, she opened up about her two sons, her hometown, and her knitting group--no mention of her disease.

Without even standing up, the three of us—Ivana, me, and my grandmother--had taken a walk together.

Before I could resolve my guilt, I had to broaden my perspective of the world as well as my responsibilities to my fellow humans.

Volunteering at a cancer treatment center has helped me discover my path.