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Right, so, I wrote this essay for the 'butterfly effect' prompt. If it sounds a bit broken and scattered it's probably because it was originally over twice the length it is now; I've managed to get it down to 550 words and it's still too long. Suggestions? ConCrit is VERY welcome.

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The butterfly was none other than one Mrs. Suh, one of my mom’s best clients and an excellent tipper, even if she was a bit on the annoying side. I looked forward to weekend mornings, when I helped out in the restaurant and was usually given the task of waiting on said Mrs. Suh, who always insisted I sit down with her and have a bagel with cream cheese and tell her all about my week.

I was in first grade and spring break was quickly approaching but we still had no plans for a vacation. Mrs. Suh stopped by one Saturday morning and made sure to tell us all about her wonderful vacation to Mexico. I had friends who had been there with their parents, to places like Acapulco and Cancun and Puerto Vallarta, but Mrs. Suh assured us that that wasn’t the ‘real Mexico.’ It was magical, a must-see country, she gushed. I was all for it. Somewhere far more exciting than Ocean City? I’m sure I practically begged my mom to take us. And she did.

That was our first trip to Mexico. Over the next five years, we would visit at least once a year, sometimes twice. By the time I was ten I’d been south of the border more times than I could count.

My mom dropped the bomb sometime during the summer before fifth grade. I was looking forward to my last year of lower-school; finally, we would rule over the little kids. And middle-school, that mysterious, wonderful thing was just around the corner. I guess you could say I was perfectly happy until she told me. We would be moving to Mexico the following summer, it was decided. She was convinced that it was the best thing to do for both of us; she was tired of struggling with the restaurant, barely having time to spend with me after school, the fast-paced, sometimes lonely life of big-city America. I was terrified.

The first month or so in Oaxaca is now nothing more than a blur in my memory. I vaguely remember sitting in my room for a good part of the day, avoiding the neighbors (who stared constantly) and refusing to utter a single word of Spanish. I dreaded the first day of school and made my mom promise to walk me to my classroom, no matter how stupid I looked.

The first day was scary, yes, but it got much better after that. My Spanish improved quickly and my classwork was fine, much to my mom’s relief. My classmates were curious at first, and admittedly asked me quite a few awkward questions, but I made friends right away and started to settle in.

As I graduated from high school this past June, I tried to imagine my life had we stayed in the United States. The only thing I know for certain is that I am a completely different person because of my time in Mexico. When I was eleven, I was certain my mom was destroying my life. Now I realize that she was giving me the greatest experience someone could have.

I haven’t seen Mrs. Suh since we left Philadelphia, but I think of her quite often. In her annoying, eye-roll provoking manner she changed my life forever.

By Newnudad (Newnudad) on Wednesday, September 22, 2004 - 09:24 am: Edit

Excellente!Magnifico !..and pretty darn good too IMHO! My thoughts on editing are as follows and is exactly 500 words:

The butterfly was none other than one Mrs. Suh, one of my mom’s best clients and an excellent tipper, even if she was a bit on the annoying side. I looked forward to weekend mornings, when I helped out in the restaurant and was usually given the task of waiting on Mrs. Suh, who always insisted I sit down with her and have a bagel with cream cheese and tell her all about my week.

I was in first grade and spring break was quickly approaching but we still had no plans for vacation. Mrs. Suh stopped by one Saturday morning and told us all about her wonderful vacation in Mexico. Mrs. Suh assured us that Acapulco, Cancun and Puerto Vallarta, were not the ‘real Mexico’. It was a magical, must-see country, she gushed. Somewhere far more exciting than Ocean City - I was all for it. I practically begged my mom to take us, and she did.

That was our first trip to Mexico. Over the next five years, we would visit at least once a year, sometimes twice. By the time I was ten I’d been south of the border more times than I could count.

My mom dropped the bomb sometime during the summer before fifth grade. I was looking forward to my last year of lower-school; finally, we would rule over the little kids. And middle-school, that mysterious, wonderful thing was just around the corner. I was perfectly happy until she told me that we would be moving to Mexico the following summer. She was convinced that it was the best thing to do for both of us; she was tired of struggling with the restaurant, barely having time to spend with me after school, the fast-paced, sometimes lonely life of big-city America.

The first month or so in Oaxaca is now nothing more than a blur in my memory. I vaguely remember sitting in my room for a good part of the day, avoiding the neighbors and refusing to utter a single word of Spanish. I dreaded the first day of school and made my mom promise to walk me to my classroom, no matter how stupid I looked. The first day was scary, yes, but my Spanish improved quickly and my class work was fine, much to my mom’s relief. My classmates were curious at first, but I made friends right away and started to settle in.

As I graduated from high school this past June, I tried to imagine my life had we stayed in the United States. The only thing I know for certain is that I am a completely different person because of my time in Mexico. When I was eleven, I was certain my mom was destroying my life. Now I realize that she was giving me the greatest experience someone could have.

I haven’t seen Mrs. Suh since we left Philadelphia, but I think of her quite often. In her annoying, eye-roll provoking manner she changed my life forever.

By Lilybbloom (Lilybbloom) on Wednesday, September 22, 2004 - 11:33 am: Edit

Thanks, Newnudad, but do you think I skipped over the actual description of Oaxaca? I'd really like to explore that more, but I don't see how I can with this awful word limit!

By Newnudad (Newnudad) on Wednesday, September 22, 2004 - 01:22 pm: Edit

So what did you miss describing? Dos pollo scrabbling in the dirt? I wouldn't worry about it, but that's just me, and it's not my essay!

Personally, I think it's acceptable. You have mucho tiempo, verdad? Give it a one day rest and come back to it fresh...rework it again if you want. This strategy works for a lot of things in life by the way! Just don't re-work it every day, or you will drive your self loco.

Buenos Suerte