“My parents are freaking out… but I’m fine.” These are the words of my best friend just after being told she had a brain tumor. The tumor began growing off of the Schwann cells of her facial and hearing nerve, inside of the innermost ear and brain. The tumor was slowly growing into her brain stem. According to her, the tumor was benign but the doctor warned of malignancy. Upon hearing the news I was utterly shocked, terrified, and fascinated by the science of it all at once. My best friend, my partner in crime did not, could not have a tumor. I knew immediately I needed to be calm and collected for her sake (and mine).

At first I was dumbfounded at her apparent indifference towards the whole situation. She made fun of her newly deaf left ear and shrugged off any sort of condolence. It was not until later that she told me of countless nights spent crying herself to sleep, hating her new post surgical, half-paralyzed face, resenting her pain and terrified that it would never go away. I, too, found myself awake at night asking why bad things happen to great people… I never did resolve that question. One Spring day, half a year after her multiple procedures and recovery, Kathryn told me that I would always be her best friend and thanked me for being with her from the beginning. I left my childhood behind that day.

Before the diagnosis, I found myself constantly traveling life’s straightest paths - I was afraid of taking chances and deviating from the norm. I was unknowingly drowning in routine, a child taking my greatest gifts for granted. I was blind to the fact that I was (and still am) blessed. I complained about trivial things, isolated myself in my room each night, slaving away over math problems and writing prompts. I rarely enjoyed the company of my family. In fact, it seemed the only communication I had with them was about schoolwork. This changed in a way that I could never have imagined. After that fateful October day, I saw everything in a different light. I found myself sacrificing precious time to talk to and check up on Kathryn. I would visit her as much as I could and direct all of my energy towards making her laugh. Gradually, I began to see the value of family again. After all, no one is guaranteed escape from tragedy. Slowly my life began to shape into something that was fulfilling, rather than simply successful. Soon enough, I was not merely going through the motions, I was participating in real life. Kathryn taught me to live each day and appreciate it.

Now I feel as if I should be thanking Kathryn. It was Kathryn who came to mind when I joined a Special Olympics swim team to teach and assist the special needs participants. In the end I learned humanity, teamwork, and the powerful bonds that can form between people who are striving towards the same goal. When I founded my reading group “Teens to Tots”, I pictured the light of bright futures gleaming in the children’s eyes. I saw just that because my focus was no longer on me alone. There is nothing more fulfilling than fostering the growth of lifetime readers and ultimately, learners. I am no longer afraid to take chances, to walk upon a stage for the first time in my life and perform in front of hundreds of people (dressed as Willy Wonka himself), to surround myself with those people I care for the most, all the while becoming an individual who knows what he wants and will strive in all of his academic and extracurricular endeavors to achieve his dreams. Indeed, it is Kathryn’s circumstances that changed me. But it is me that confidently walks into the warm and bright light of adulthood.