Leaving my hometown of Cleveland at age fifteen, was the result
of two imperfect choices. I had the option of attending an excellent
private school, but I would have to live in a dorm in another state. On the
other hand, I could stay in Cleveland with my family, but would have to attend
a city high school with poor resources. Heading into tenth grade, the
decision wasn’t very hard to make. I wanted to go. Even at fifteen, I recognized
that the scholarship could mean a brighter future for me. But one factor that
did make the decision especially difficult was leaving my parents, particularly
my mother. She was my closest friend.
When the September school departure day arrived, I lifted two
pieces of hard-backed Samsonite luggage into a taxi and went alone to the
airport. No one cried, not even my father who said he felt like he was losing
his only daughter. And as the car rolled out of the driveway and I waved
goodbye, I thought I felt my heart breaking.
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