Sydney visser

The Prize

The summer after high school was particularly boring. While most of the kids from my school were going to the beach with their friends or visiting their vacation homes, I was working at the Sherbet Shack. When I wasn’t scooping deliciously sticky ice cream for my fellow sunburned schoolmates, I was in my room applying to college. No there wasn’t an angry adult punishing me for swearing or skipping class, but instead a much harsher, unseen force, life. Being raised by a single mom meant that I simply did not have the luxuries that the other kids had. Let’s get one thing straight though, I am in no way complaining about my life. I love what my mom has provided for me, and I am so thankful to have her. By luxuries, I mean that if I wanted something, I had to pay for it. Which meant that scooping that ice cream was second nature at this point. Don’t get me wrong, I loved having a job. I loved feeling mature and responsible. Yet this summer was stressful compared to the previous. I have always wanted to go to college and further my education, so it was important that I made enough money this summer to pay my tuition. Things weren’t looking good though. With the money I had already saved, along with what I would make by the end of the summer, I was still about ten grand short. I knew I wouldn’t be able to afford to go to college, but that didn’t mean I was going to give up. At this point, I was just praying for a miracle by the time summer came to a close.