Shorten this personal statement to 650 words: I discovered that I have green fingers in Grandma’s garden. 

It was a small backyard garden in a village of Shandong Province. There, Grandma grows everything we ate and used. On hot summer evenings, Grandma would treat my mosquito bites with Sanqi leaves. In August, I loved gently shaking the mulberry tree and picking up the fruit that fell off. I soon unearthed my innate ability to nurture and developed a knack for working my hands in the soil, sowing seeds, and cutting the pedicels of the sponge gourd. 

As we moved to an apartment in the city, I immediately transformed our modest apartment into a haven for my beloved plants. The balcony is covered with pot plants, including cape jasmine, which I call “my little babies,” though to my frustration it rarely blossoms. The cherry tomatoes, on the other hand, grow so well that they keep showing up on my breakfast plate.

Though it may sound cliched, my balcony garden has been my sanctuary. Amidst the hustle and bustle of the city, nothing has lifted my spirits more than my garden. Cutting the yellow leaves, watering the soil, or simply sitting in the armchair among the pots has brought me tranquility more than I can express. 

Entering high school, I longed to share the source of my tranquility with my schoolmates. Spotting a small, neglected piece of land near the school playground, I imagined transforming it into a vibrant garden. With this vision in mind, I took a bold step and founded the first-ever gardening club in our school. Three classmates excitedly joined. Five more came to our first activity. Armed with shovels and seeds, we planted flowers of all varieties and some cherry tomato cuts I took from my balcony, carefully tending to them, day after day. 

And our mission extended beyond the land’s boundaries. We took it upon ourselves to care for the trees on campus, ensuring they received the attention and love they deserved. We also arranged freshly picked flowers in dormitories and classrooms, infusing these spaces with the beauty of nature.

The response from our fellow students was heartwarming. One day, when Lily and I were wandering in the garden, she confided that the aroma of flowers eliminated her sorrow about breaking up with a friend and unloaded her burden for exams. Listening to Lily’s experience, I realized that the tranquility found in nature was not merely a pleasant pastime but a powerful tool for mental well-being. By immersing ourselves in the act of gardening, we were not only cultivating flowers but also our inner peace. I wondered what more I could do with our gardening club. 

I soon came up with an idea for the tree hugging activity. At first, it was within the club. Each Wednesday afternoon, we would walk around the campus and pick a tree to hug. Some of the schoolmates would frown and walk away, but soon we got more among us. A bit embarrassed at first, many of them were surprised at how they felt. “I calm down when I feel the toughness of the trunk,” one of them said. Closing our eyes, feeling the texture of the trunk, and enjoying the smell of a combination of soil and leaves were wonderful. 

As I promoted the tree hugging campaign outside the campus, I heard more stories from my peers about their school life. High school students, indeed adolescents as a whole, face an immense amount of stress and pressure. While the therapeutic benefits of gardening were evident, I realized that a holistic understanding of adolescent and young adult health was crucial. 

From teenagers’ fear of going back to school to the relationship between puppy love and depression, I delved deeper into the various mental health challenges faced by adolescents. To release the shame towards mental issues and encourage my peers to speak out about their issues, my team members and I made an advertisement—it is okay to be not okay--illustrating a girl telling her troubles to her mother and getting understanding. 

Today, as I look back at my journey from Grandma’s garden to my current commitment to adolescent health, I not only fortify my love for nature but recognize my deeper passion for understanding and advocating the importance of nurturing the mind and soul.  

This spring, when the air was just beginning to warm up, I sat with my friends on a wooden bench at school. The buds on a nearby magnolia tree were ready to burst into leaves. That was when I saw it: the first peach blossom of the year. It wasn’t an epiphany, but it made me smile.