Personal Statement - Sophia S.

The dollar store isn’t exactly known to be life-changing. In fact, I was only there to pick up some art supplies for a project at school- poster boards and glitter glue. I felt bad for dragging my dad to drive me there on a Tuesday night, so I pulled him over to the book section.

“Here, Dad. Maybe you’ll find some cool books to read.” I tried to sound enthusiastic; the selection looked decent, albeit the children's coloring books that lay scattered on the shelves. He nodded absentmindedly, motioning for me to do what I needed to do.

Minutes later, I had finished picking out the color poster board I wanted and found a set of markers, too. I wandered back over to where I left my dad, and to my surprise he had a book in hand. It was a thick hardcover; the front displayed two smiling girls who looked to be from the Himalayan region in Asia. More notably, one had two cup-like bandages on her face that looked to have been taped on, but were now only hanging from her cheeks as she beamed. The title, too, was bold. SECOND SUNS, it read; Two Doctors and Their Amazing Quest to Restore Sight and Save Lives.

“Done?” My dad questioned, “I’m going to get this book. Looks interesting…” Glad that my dad had been able to find something to read, I hurried to the cash register and glanced at the book once more as it slowly passed before my eyes on the conveyor belt. Huh. Second Suns?

Weeks later, fall break had rolled around, and despite my initial excitement, the break had been relatively boring so far.

“Find a book to read,” my mother urged, “Maybe you’ll learn something new.” I rolled my eyes, but picked myself up off the couch and ambled into the study. Two full bookcases stared back at me as I skimmed the rows, looking for something that would catch my interest. Directly next to the hefty Benjamin Franklin biography I never finished and the equally hefty Complete Volumes of Sherlock Holmes sat the book my father had bought, untouched: Second Suns. As I read the inside cover, it seemed like another cliche account of struggle and success. However, despite my doubts, I flipped to page one and began to read.

I’ll spare you the specifics, but long story short: I was wrong. Because as I read Dr. Geoff Tabin and Dr. Sanduk Ruit’s stories- of how they formed an unlikely partnership, joined by a similar goal- I was in awe. They found a problem: due to high amounts of sunlight exposure, people in the Himalayan region were developing cataracts. With their sight impaired, it was nearly impossible to continue self-sustaining- many had to make a grueling trek up mountain trails daily, but how could they do this without sight? Tabin and Ruit developed a method to perform low-cost surgery in these remote regions, regifting sight to those who had become hopeless; the gift of second suns. The duo would go on to expand their organization, reaching Africa and other parts of Asia and in turn expanding their reputation as miracle workers.

I found a gift of my own waiting for me within the pages of Second Suns. In the Author’s Note, the organization's url was bolded, and out of curiosity, I visited the website. I’m not sure what gave me the courage to send the Himalayan Cataract Project an email, but I sure was not expecting them to reply as quickly as they did. I corresponded with members of their team and expressed my interest in helping raise money for the cause, and for the first time I was surprised. As I organized small fundraisers, as simple as asking for a donation in place of a gift at my birthday party, I realized that my actions had never felt so tangible. In the grand scheme of things, I was still insignificant. To the Himalayan Cataract Project, even, I was probably just another donor, just another kid eager to make a difference. But to me, that made all the difference. The Himalayan Cataract Project showed me that it doesn’t take a big company or lots of money to lend someone a hand; I, a middle schooler, could be involved in helping someone regain their sight. It was an important realization- maybe an obvious one to most observers- but one that changed my perspective greatly. All of the cheesy sayings from elementary school that told me that I could “make a difference” had culminated, and I was left standing at the trailhead.

Today, I’m even more determined to make my own differences, however insignificant. I’m still in contact with the Himalayan Cataract Project, and I plan to organize more fundraising events in high school. My dad often jokes that buying Second Suns was “the best dollar I ever spent.” And I agree, because even the dollar store can be life-changing.