The Lost Game

"The Lost Game"
--by Stephanie A. Stuart
When I was little my father used to play a game with me driving home. Its main substance was something like this: he would say, oh no, I seem to be lost; how shall
we get home? And then he would ask, which way? Gleefully, I would crane my neck above the seat; according to the game, his befuddlement was hopeless, and I alone
as navigator could bring us home. No doubt I seemed contrary as I directed him
further and further down back streets, but my secret incentive was exploration. As a small child there is very little one can control in one's world; to have control over
an entire grown-up – not to mention a whole car – was tremendously appealing. The
real allure, though, was in going the "wrong" way – as soon as we turned left where
we usually turned right, the world was so brand new it might have only appeared the
moment we rounded the corner. My heart would beat below my throat as I gave the
direction to turn, stretching my neck from my place in the backseat, eager and afraid: suppose I did really get us lost? The secret desire to discover always won out
over the fear, but I can still recall the flutter of my heart on the inside of my ribs as
I navigated the roundabout connections which was as mysterious as the Northwest Passage, lone link between the cul-de-sacs.
Exploration was a quest I took to heart; alone, I would set out on expeditions into
our back yard, or down the street, creating a mental map concentric to our doorstep. Discovery bloomed magical for me; marked on the map were the locations of abandoned tree houses, bell=blue flowers and plants with flat powdery leaves the
size of silver dollars.
The other night it fell to my brother and me to return a movie. After we left it on the
counter, though, our sense of adventure got the better of us. Oh dear, I said, I
seemed to be lost. Where shall I go? Eager to discover the town which smoldered at one o'clock under the orange and violet of sodium street lamps, he chose the road less traveled, at least by our wheels.
We wound into the pine forest in the dead of night; moonlight feel eerie across our laps, stiated by tree trunks. I crested a hill slowly: Monterey spread in a lighted grid below us, down to the darkening sea.
Above, the Milky Way sprang apart and arched like a dance. I angled my ear for a moment to Gatsby's tuning fork, that pure, enticing tone that echoes from the
spheres. Think, remember, I wished upon him, what it is to explore, and the explorer's incentive: discovery.
"Which way?" I asked him, and he grinned slowly, moonlight glinting far-off mischief in his eyes. The streets spread orthogonal before us; the pure realm of possibility opened from them.
"Straight ahead," he said, and I smiled.
ANALYSIS
Stephanie's essay falls into the life experiences category. However, rather than focusing on a signle life-changing experience, Stephanie shows her approach
toward personal discovery by relating the sotry of riding in a car and changing the
standard directions as a means of stumbling upon unexplored worlds. The essay is well controlled – at no point does she stray towward overstating the significance of
these individual events, but deftly uses them as a tool to illustrate her adventure-seeking attitude toward life and her unwillingness to be satisfied with the routine. Stephanie further highlighted the importance of discovery when she
submitted the essay to the admissions office on U.S. Geological Survey maps – a thoughtful touch.
The essay's greatest asset is the sense of personal development Stephanie conveys.
What begins as a cute story of her childhood is used wonderfully to highlight her personal development as she writes of a tenet in her life: "Think, remember … what it is to explore, and the explorer's incentive: discovery." Stephanie avoids listing her
accomplishments in a resume put into sentence form, but still captures important aspects of her identity, namely her inquisitiveness. The essay is well-paced and
calm, with a solid development from beginning to end. Stephanie describes sensory aspects of her story ("flat, powdery leaves the size of silver dollars") with great word choice without overdoing it. It is clear that every word in the essay was carefully chosen to accurately and succintly describe her subject. Not only does her essay successfully paint a picture of her as an curious little child, it shows that the same
inquisitiveness she exhibited then she still possesses, now coupled with more
responsibility, as she drives her brother and encourages his inquisitiveness.
The biggest risk in this essay is that it does not adequately showcase her
accomplishments, normally a standard part of a college essay. While it worked for her, this has much to do with the extraordinary level of care she took in crafting the
essay; her diligence shows, and the essay is an insightful, well-written, and
well-paced piece of work.