Boston University Application Killian McDonald

When I was thirteen, my grandparents took my cousin and me on a trip to the mountains of North Carolina to celebrate our thirteenth birthdays. My grandparents wanted to give us an opportunity to step outside our comfort zones and try new things; after all, we had reached a new milestone in our lives. The other day I found myself looking through the photo album my grandmother made to record the trip. With every turn of the page, I noticed a common theme in each picture: I was always leading the group. There I was, smiling, the first one climbing up the side of a mountain, and then there I was again, the first one in the raft that was tilting over the 9 foot drop-off. After my grandparents and even the guide fell out of the raft, I was all smiles, holding my fingers in a victory sign. No fear, just exhilaration. Flip the page and I am suddenly leading the group horseback riding, and then there’s a picture of me being the first to jump into the Chattooga River rapids. When I was on the trip, I could not take other people’s word for what was ahead: I had to see it, even if it meant walking up another mountain when I was already exhausted. I always felt I had to scope out the next waterfall, climb the next mountain peak, or follow...