First to Remember, Last to Forget by Jordyn

First to Remember, Last to Forget by Jordyn - July 2025 Scholarship Essay

Newton's first law states that an object in motion will remain in motion, and an object at rest will remain at rest, unless acted upon by an unbalanced force. I can say with confidence that unbalanced forces have been scattered throughout my life, all coming in different forms than the last.

When I was 8 years old, my mom decided to replace her old Nissan Altima, for a newer Nissan Juke. This wasn’t by choice, more by force, since Snow White (our nickname for our car because of her sleek white paint coat and my moms additional love for Disney princesses) had gotten into a car accident on our way to school. Unlike other events that happened when I was 8, I vividly remember the day that Snow White was picked up to be taken away. My mom and I took two final trips : one to take out all of our items inside Snow White, and the other to say our final goodbyes. On that final trip, my mom sat in the driver's seat one last time, took a quick picture, and was ready to go. I, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to let go of her. Snow White was with me for as long as I could remember. She took me everywhere: practice, sleepovers, laundry mat, you name it, Snow White had probably been there. She, quite literally, carried memories. Snow White, being taken away made it feel like the memories were going with her, every moment I had with her tethered to her tan seats. I sat for a moment longer, tears welling up in my eyes, but not quite coming out because of my sheer will not to start crying over an inanimate object, and I slowly started to part with her. I took one last look back at Snow White before she was taken away, hoping that the harder I stared, the easier it was for her to transfer her memories to me.

Not long after, Snow White was replaced with Ursula, our Black Nissan Juke, another unbalanced force came my way. My dad came to pick up my mom and I for dinner one night, and decided to surprise us with his new haircut. He wasn’t exactly bald, but he also didn’t really have anything definable as “hair”. It was a layer of stubble on his head, rough to the touch. I stared at him for a little while, then decided to see myself out. I paced around my room, tears once again welling up in my eyes, for a reason I couldn’t quite put my finger on. The haircut wasn’t bad, my dad looked perfectly fine, but I think what shocked me was that he changed. My dad was a cornerstone in my life. He wasn’t replaceable like a car was, he was permanent. I knew I would soon get used to his appearance, but I still felt as though the hair he cut off carried a part of him. A part of him that I thought I would forget.

Fast forward to now, my way of combatting day to day unbalanced forces has been in the form of souvenirs. Having a tangible object that represents special moments makes me feel somewhat in control. Every time we go somewhere outside of my four walls, I try to find something representative of my time in that location. If we go to touristy spots, I buy a keychain. If we go to museums, I buy a postcard. If we go to theme parks, I buy a pin. These items are added to my collection of little trinkets, all coming together to form a timeline of my various adventures.

In addition to souvenirs, I also use every moment I can to take pictures. My camera roll is filled with pictures from almost every day of my life, ever since I got my first iPad on Christmas 12 years ago. I carried that chunky iPad with me everywhere, not for the games, but for the camera. I took vlogs, selfies, pictures of my parents, pictures of skylines, pictures of just the sky. When it started to run out of storage my first priority was to save all of my pictures. These pictures carry with them all the emotions I felt in that moment in just a quick snapshot. With a tap of the finger. Being able to relive the moments I fear forgetting makes me feel in control of my constant motion.

All of this is to say that I am sentimental. I hold onto things extremely tight, feeling that letting them go will make me feel unbalanced. The constant motions of life are scary, and knowing that everything is persistently changing makes me fear the future. Yet, every time I end up in the future I was fearing, I become even more grateful to be in a world that thrives off of change. My fear runs my life, instead of fueling it, and that's a key difference. I would tell my past self that it’s ok to loosen your grip. Not let go completely, but to hold things by the hand, and if they start to run ahead of you, it's ok, because eventually, you will catch up.