The Last Time by Camila

The Last Time by Camila - July 2025 Scholarship Essay

From the moment that last school bell rang, my family and I would pack our bags for our yearly trip to Mexico. For two months, every morning I would wake up ready for the day, with a Chocomilk and two gorditas de frijoles y queso waiting for me. On any other day, that was not a summer day, the routine would be the same. Wake up, go to school, learn some valuable information, and come back home, never able to fully relax, whether that was as a result of homework, or an exam. Some would say that I studied too hard. I beg to differ, as seeing those straight “A’s” on my report card brought a smile to my and my parent’s faces every time, telling me how proud they were of me. Even during the summer, I like to keep myself (and my brain) informed, whether that be by reading a book, watching the news, or even doing some work I was left by teachers over the summer.

However, the moment I stepped foot in Mexico, and took in the vibrant colors of all the mismatched houses on our street, I felt at home. I felt serene. Regardless of the sound of the horses clopping in the middle of the street. Regardless of the man yelling at everyone around him to buy corn on a stick. I was completely engulfed in sounds that would normally annoy me to no end, but for some odd reason, I knew to enjoy them and not take them for granted.

At least once every summer, as a family we would all go to a ranch in the middle of nowhere, where there was no cellular service, and where we could easily get lost. All 28 of my family members would wander around the piece of land, taking in the grassy landscape, or enjoying the large cascade of water falling down, while simultaneously avoiding cow poop or slippery rocks. One particular time I remember going down to one of the nearby waterfalls. Walking down the steep slope as an 8 year old absolutely terrified for my life that I was going to fall. I, being the stubborn child I was, refused help from anyone, even though I knew I could easily fall, and bring down every other family member in front, down with me. The climb back up to the waterfall was ten times easier. I had family members and friends to help push me back up. There were rocks sticking out for me to grab on and to help me support myself on the slope back up. When I was finally on stable, solid ground, I was proud that I had made it from the deep and scary trench I had pictured in my head.

The way I felt that day at the waterfall, that terror and anxiety, was the same way freshman year made me feel, mentally and physically. I had seven classes, with a majority of them being advanced classes. I didn’t know how to manage my workload, and I was getting way too overwhelmed. Along with the immense amount of pressure I felt from my parents, and family members, coming from an immigrant family. I always felt the need to get straight A’s and overwork myself. It got to a point where once again, I was going down a steep slope, and once again I was refusing help. I would constantly stay up late to finish work so it would be as perfect as it possibly could be.

The day that I had one of the biggest anxiety attacks, was the day that changed everything for me. I put myself in the headspace of climbing back up that slope in Mexico. I put myself in the headspace of finally being able to relax in Mexico again. I imagined walking through the uneven streets and hearing the sizzle of the meat being cooked on a taco stand. If I were able to go back to my freshman year one more time, it would be to remind myself to keep going. I would want the younger me to know that there is light at the end of the tunnel, and that in the end, everything is going to turn out the way it’s supposed to.