College Essay (Melrose High School Student, University of New Hampshire)
I wasn’t always a middle child. I became one when my sister was born. Before that day, I was the baby of the family, the little brother who followed my big brother Matt everywhere. I watched him make the “Toot! Toot!” sound of Thomas the Tank Engine and tried to imitate everything he did. When he left for kindergarten, I felt lost—until I looked down and saw my new baby sister, Caty. Suddenly, I was the big brother. I showed her my toys, tickled her feet, and made her laugh. For the first time, I understood what it felt like to be looked up to.
I was always awed by Matt’s successes and proud of Caty’s milestones. Matt was the first to play sports; Caty was the last to lose a tooth. They got the thrill of being first and last. I got to experience both—watching from above and below, the bridge between them.
As my parents focused on keeping Matt in line and calming Caty’s complaints, I had space to figure out who I was. My mom taught me how to cook—she dreamed of me on MasterChef, but I just liked bringing people together with food. When my parents’ friends or cousins came over, I felt proud seeing everyone enjoy what I made. Cooking became my thing—not something expected of me, but something I chose.
My dad encouraged me to play sports, probably as another way to connect. He put up a basketball hoop, and Matt showed me how to shoot and dribble. Out of the corner of my eye, I’d see Caty on the porch, cheering for us. My dad’s expectations weighed heavily on Matt, but not on me. I got to play for fun, to enjoy the game, to just be myself.
Still, it wasn’t all easygoing. I admired Matt and wanted to live up to him, just as I imagine Caty looks up to me. On my shelf sits a shiny white lacrosse ball. My coach wrote on it: “Danny’s first goal, May 11, 2011.” I remember that moment vividly—scoring that goal, hearing the cheers, feeling like I’d taken one step closer to being like Matt. But more than that, I was proud to be myself: a mix of big brother and little brother, shaped by both sides, finding my own way in between.