I remember that day well because it was the lightest day of the year.  After months and months of cold weather I had grown so accustomed to bundling up and braving the wind but finally summer came around and I grew happier and more carefree, though the warmth of the sun is more pleasant in the dead of winter.  Having just gotten out of college I was young and unsure of the future.  You could also even say I was naïve about the future.  Sure I had my bachelor’s in biology and I was ready to find a job, but what I couldn’t realize was that so did many other people.  The task of finding a job seemed as impossible as paying back my student loans.   This didn’t matter though because I knew I was special.  I knew I could do something with my life that would matter, something that could help others and something that would make me feel good about my “eager-to-help” self.   I knew there would soon be that something that could make me prove to everyone that ever doubted me in my entire life that I, Sarah Smith, am important.  I knew I was destined to do something great with my life, and nothing could stop me. 

            I had recently gotten into the habit of going into Starbuck’s, looking over the newspaper for jobs, and leaving.  Nothing appealed to me too much though; maybe because I was restless and unhappy that I had no idea what I wanted to do with the rest of my life.  I was no dancer, no doctor, no singer, and no writer.  I had no passion and no motivation now that school was over.  I was a great student, but after that, after school, what was there? 

            As soon as I set my foot out the door of Starbuck’s, a great premonition took me over from head to toe.  People around me stared with wide eyes and odd glances as I dropped my bag to the sidewalk and felt a chill run through my body.  It passed as fast as it came and I regained control, managing to blend myself into the crowd.  This is a skill that is good to have as is good penmanship or keeping your hair combed, but as I was about to find out sometimes you can manage to have bad penmanship while writing (or just use a computer) or look a little messy on bad hair days, because some things are  more important than looking good.  Sometimes feeling good about yourself is just more important.  And to me, the ultimate thing that would make me feel good about myself was to find my destiny in the working world.

            I was about to take walk down the busy street when that premonition took over me once again, so I took the long way home, which was along the lake.  I sometimes stopped here to look at the waves overlapping like pancakes on Sunday morning.  I turned to head home when I saw it; an old worn leather wallet that was lying in the sun, on a rock next to the sparkling lake.  When I picked it up it was heavy and had in it a movie stub, pictures and…MONEY!  After the shock of finding it left, I looked for bills, and as soon as I found the fifty dollar bill, it jumped from my hands and fluttered through the wind.  It came alive and I felt that for some reason I shouldn’t just let it leave my side.  What was so miraculous about it and its journey was that it never gave up; it kept me chasing it until I took my flip-flops off so I could hunt it down.  Finally, when I grasped it and let out a loud “HA!” I heard faint cries coming from a nearby park. 

            I rushed to the source of the cries, which happened to be the playground.  There was a small dog that was moaning and whimpering in response to an injured young girl.  She lay next to the swings, which were across from the monkey bars.  From what I could tell she had injured herself, and there was no one to help her but me.  After trying to breathe and just think of what to do in such a situation, a flashback came to me, just as the wallet and its fate did that day.

            It was fifth grade, and my friends and I were pretending to be ballerinas.  We all had our hearts set on owning the stage someday as prima ballerinas.  My friends and I twirled around the park, leaping from bench to bench, using the old worn benches as balance beams.  Beth, the most daring of the group, decided to use the monkey bars as a balance beam and lost her balance.  She ungracefully fell to the ground, hitting her head on the way.  While everyone else started crying hysterically and panicking, I remained calm and took control of the situation.  I told one girl to go call 9-11 from the phone in the field house.  The rest of us stayed by Beth’s side while I kept reassuring her everything was going to be ok.  I told her to just stay awake because it seemed she had a concussion and the most important thing was to retain consciousness.  Beth was soon taken off by an ambulance, and she was ok, thanks to me, Sarah Smith, the hero. 

            The dog’s barking snapped me back to reality, as I realized this was the same situation.  I decided to call 9-11.  I made sure she was elevated well and didn’t fall asleep, by reassuring her she would be fine and keeping my hand by her forehead.  This was the first time since school that I felt I had done something worthwhile, that I had found meaning in helping someone else.  It felt good to proclaim myself a hero again, and it felt even better to take in the thanks of the parents of the girl I had saved.  The next day I enrolled myself in a college of nursing, as I had found my calling of life, of helping people: to become a nurse.