See Dick run, see Jane jump, see Alexandra take that next step in life.

"Dick said, 'Go Jane. Jump! Jump! Jump, Jane!'"

"Oh Jane, look and see, see Sally go, see Sally pull the---how do you say that?"

"Wagon Grandma. See Sally pull the wagon."

There are numerous lines from Dick and Jane books plastered into my mind.

From the time I was born my grandma Maria, my mom's mom, was right there by my side. She made it her duty to assist my parents in raising me.

My mom owned a bridal shop downtown named, "IVAH'S" which my grandma helped her run. When I was too young to be in school and my parents went to work, I would spend every moment of everyday in that bridal store with my grandma. A copious amount of memories I still carry from my childhood take place in that shop with her. It was there that I would play dress up, where I figured out that I didn't need to go to the hair dresser because, "I could cut my own hair," and it was even there that she taught me how to ride a bike.

Still to this day I can close my eyes and picture her pushing me around the store in a stroller when I would get sleepy, and singing lullabies to me in Spanish until my eyes finally shut.

My entire life I looked up to my grandma. I went to her when I needed help, or advice. She was the one who had all the answers. She was my biggest role model. There did, however come a time when my grandma asked one favor of me.

My grandma Maria was born into a poor family from Mexico. At a young age she started working to support her family. She once told me a story of how she was given the chance to assist a local doctor in her town. She mentioned how she helped him deliver babies, give shots, tend to the ill, and she also informed me on how she had a great passion for it.

"I knew that being a nurse and helping people was what I wanted to do with my life."  She expressed.

 She was soon sent to the states to work and take care of her family. She was never given the opportunity to fulfill her dreams or even receive an education.

The favor my grandma asked of me was to teach her how to read a book.

She had a large stack of Dick and Jane books, and I would sit down next to her as she pulled one out and flipped it to the first page. She would read it line by line stopping here and there to ask me how to pronounce a word, then grabbing her pen and marking it down so she wouldn't forget. She would continuously remind me of how smart I was, how proud of me she was, and how she knew that one day I was going to be something great like a doctor, or a lawyer.

My grandma passed away five years ago and with graduation coming up it makes me think of her and miss her even more. I wish she could be with me here today, so she could sit there at my graduation and see me walk across that stage to receive my diploma.

She made me promise her that I would constantly push myself, work my hardest, and follow my dreams. That's a promise that I will never break.

This fall I will be following my dreams and be attending the University of Arizona where I will be majoring in Veterinary Science and Equine Science. I would have never gotten to where I am today if it were not for that tremendous and strong woman. Although she may not physically by here with me today, I know that she is still always going to be by my side no matter where life takes me.

Take that leap and soar

"This is the biggest and most important day of my life." I thought to myself.

The palms of my hands were sweaty and there was a multitude of things flowing through my mind.

"What if no one likes me?"

"Does my outfit look ok?"

I was positive that the fate of the rest of my life depended on this day, and it was up to me to make the very best of it. I stood for a second and mentally and fully prepared myself to take on what was ahead. I straightened up my back, stood a little taller, and walked with pride right into Holbrook Park Elementary School. That kindergarten class did not know what they had coming. .

For thirteen years of my life I have had the same routine. That routine consisted of waking up, going to school five days a week for 180 days, enjoying two months of summer vacation, and then returning back to school to start it all over again. That is all I've ever known. Over the course of these thirteen years I've been given the chance to learn from numerous superb teachers, create life long friendships, and make a plethora of memories which I will carry and cherish with me always.

It blows my mind to try and comprehend the fact that in just three short weeks I will be walking out of Holbrook High School for the very last time. There will be no more walking down the halls with my friends during passing time, no Friday night lights or games in the gym, no walking late to class past Mr. Nielson hoping he won't yell at you, and that sigh of relief you feel when you actually get to experience him smile at you; there will be no more of any of that.

I had myself convinced that I was completely and utterly over the entire school scene. I would sit in class watching the clock and counting down the days until May. The thought of graduation brought me so much joy, for I couldn't wait until the day I get to move on and start that new chapter in my life. Now that the month of May has finally approached, I'm not as anxious as I thought I would be. The feelings that I've had all year still burn inside of me; however, I've also begun to feel anxiety and a tiny bit scared. Holbrook is all I've ever known and in just a little while I'm going to be thrown out into the world and have to face it all on my own.

I'm a small town girl from Holbrook, Arizona who is about to take on this crazy and scary world. Of course there will be trials and tribulations along the way, but that's just how is goes. I have no doubt that if I was able to own that first day of kindergarten, I will be able to take this great leap and soar.

No wonder Cinderella needed a godmother to get ready

"Alexandra you need to start getting ready you're not going to have enough time."

"Mom I have like over an hour and a half I'm fine..." *Twenty minutes later* "Oh my gosh mom what am I going to do I don't have enough time to get ready! I'm going to be late and my date is going to be waiting on me!!"

Four years of high school dances and my getting ready routine always stayed the same. You would've thought that I learned my lesson after my first dance, yet all the way up to my last one I still find myself scraping for time and using up every second I can spare. I don't know what it is that makes me keep this annoying habit. Maybe it's the rush I get when I check my phone and see my time running out, the way my mom and I run around like chickens with their heads cut off, or just the plain fact that I should know better by now, but still can't seem to get it together.

My hair is still half wet when I start curling it, none of my curls will stay (partially because of it still being wet), so I have to curl it two to three more times, burning my fingers by accident by touching the curling iron, messing up my nail polish, or running late to the hair appointment I had, that's probably going to take an hour or so. You name it, something is always going wrong. This year I experienced a new one though, it was along the lines of being ready, but putting on my dress to find out I sent it for a week to get alterations and not all of them were complete, so my mom is stabbing me trying to pin it with the safety pins she has on hand...oh the joys of getting ready.

You know guys have it easy. All they do is jump in the shower, comb their hair, put on their clothes, throw on some cologne, and they're good to go. While I'm over here having a mental break down and panic attack trying to get all dolled up.

Ok maybe I'm exaggerating a little, and sure I complain about it, but all the stress I face while getting ready is forgotten and worth it when I see the look on my parents face and my date's as I walk down my stairs finally ready.

As I finished getting ready for my last high school dance I looked back and took in the bitter sweet moment. I may have waited until the last minute a few too many times, but I'm going to miss all those jam packed moments. And the next time I have to get ready for a dance.....I'm probably still going to be running late and around like crazy. It's too late to quit now! 

"Thank you" two words I don't say enough

"Mom can I have this, Dad can I do that," I'm constantly asking my parents for things. Whether it be asking them to buy me something, take me somewhere, or asking them if I can do anything for that matter; there is always something I seem to need. However, no matter what it is they find a way to come through for me. 

There are numerous tasks that they do; whether it be big or quite minuscule, they always try their hardest to get it done. 

They take off work to come to my games, they haul me around to rodeos, pay my entree fees, and even risk the chance of getting home later from a rodeo just so I can see my boyfriend a little longer. If it's important to me, it's important to them. At times they make their life harder so mine can be easier. 

I have come to the realization that at moments I ask way to much of them. I've also realized that because they have continually given me all they can, I hit a point where I began to expect them to and not be as grateful as I should be. 

I'm ashamed that I've allowed myself to act that way. I have extraordinary parents. Most people would not do half the things for their children that my parents do for me. I am truly thankful for them and all they do. Not only am I lucky, but I'm blessed with these two wonderful people. 

I'm sorry mom and dad that I don't say this enough, but thank you for all that you! I love you guys!!

Five minute conversation

Five minutes doesn't seem like a lot of time. If you were asked to do something in only five minutes or less it would seem almost impossible to complete. However, when it comes to having a conversation, depending on who they are talking to, most people would say that five minutes can linger on. A prime example would be talking to someone you just met; they don't know and you don't know them. It becomes extremely difficult to try and find ways to not let the conversation die out and keep it interesting. I personally dislike these types of conversations. Numerous times I've found them to be quiet awkward...it is however, safe to say that I've had a change of heart. 

This weekend my family and I hooked up the truck to our trailer, loaded the horses, loaded our bags, packed into the truck, and headed off to my High School Rodeo in Casa Grande. As we were on our way my parents decided to stop  and eat at the Wendy's in Payson. I was slightly annoyed. I wanted to hurry and get to Casa Grande and saw no real point in stopping. 

When we pulled into the Wendy's parking lot my dad and I went inside to order our food, and my mom stayed outside walking my dog around. As soon as I ordered I knew I didn't want to stand there the whole time and wait for our food to come out, so I went outside to release my mom from her dog watching duties. I took the leash and paced back and forth with him as he curiously smelt every rock, plant, or wrapper that he possibly could. 

As we patrolled the parking lot, out of the corner of my eye, I could see a man beginning to approach me. He was an older man with deep features, and had white hair which crept out from underneath the hat he was wearing. 

"Is your dog friendly?" Were the first words out of his mouth. 

I assured him that he was and he immediately  began to pet him. That's when the small talk began. The typical first time meeting someone questions were asked like, "Where are you from?" Or "What brings you here." I filled him in on my plans for the weekend and he mentioned to me how he lived there with his wife. It grew silent for second and I was sure that our conversation had come to an end and he would bid goodbye. My thoughts were then cut off when he began to talk once more. 

"You know I used to be a cop down in Phoenix." I wasn't too sure where this was going, but I was considerably interested and lent him my ear as he continued on.  

"I loved it a lot...well until I got shot in the head. That's why this eye won't open." He made a jester to his left eye which was shut. I hadn't noticed it much before, but now I was in awe. "What happened?!" I asked him. 

"I was making an arrest on a driver and I thought things were going smoothly until the passenger of the car decide to pull a gun out and shoot. I woke up in the hospital with no recollection of what had happened." 

Just as he finished my parents were already waiting at the truck and motioning to me know that it was time to go. 

I thanked him for talking with me, wished him a good day, and started back to my truck. As I walked back I thought to myself that I wish I could've stayed and talked more to the man. In the five minutes of talking that we did he was able to change my mood and out look on the day. I was grateful that he felt the need to share his story with me.  I was instantly glad we stopped. If we wouldn't have stopped I wouldn't of been able to have that wonderful five minute conversation.

One great Easter

My Easter was not a traditional one.

Most families spend the day going to church, having a nice lunch or dinner, and just enjoying the presence of eachother...I spent my Easter at a High School Rodeo in Casa Grande, and my delicious Easter meal was Domino's pizza.

I know it may not sound like much, but this Easter weekend helped me to  truly open my eyes and see why this holiday is so important and incredible.

I was given the opportunity to spend these past two days rodeoing; two days of doing something I love and have a passion and desire for. Rodeo is a huge part of me, it makes me who I am. I could not think of any other way I would rather spend my days, and for that I'm thankful.

On top of doing what I love I was blessed to be surrounded by the people that I love. I am extremely lucky to have these wonderful people to care for me, support me, be there for me, and take the time out of their day to help me succeed. They never put themselves first. They always give and give, yet never expect anything in return.

This Easter I came to the realization of how grateful I am for the life God has given me. He has given me the chance to do what I have a passion for, he's lead  me to great things, and let me live an over all unbelievable life. On top of that he has placed along my path the most superb people I could ever ask for. At times I always wondered why it was that some people exited out of my life, but it was always because  someone better was next in line.

I love the life I live and the people in it....Happy Easter!

Just a "bad" softball team

There is nothing wrong about coming from a small town. Not everyone can say they grew up in a place where everyone knows everyone and the sporting events are filled with the whole town there for support. However, it's heartbreaking to face the fact that coming from a small town means you are looked down on by others.

I never realized or came to this conclusion until this weekend at my softball tournament. 

My team and I were attending the Gracie Haught tournament in Payson; a tournament I have attended annually with my team for four years. As soon as we arrive and pull into the field we immediately receive looks from everyone. They all begin to mumble, "Oh it's just Holbrook." Or "Who are they? Is Holbrook even a place." Then there is my all time favorite, which was said to one of my coaches this year, "Oh it's Holbrook, they don't know anything." 

People begin to judge us based on our looks and the fact that we are a small school who can't afford all the best equipment that the valley teams have. No one gives us the chance to prove ourselves before they decide what they are going to think of us. 

Everyone believes that they have us all figured out and that they can walk all over us. 

When we started off the tournament on Saturday we came out with a strong 16-4 win against Sunnyslope. A little surprised the directors told us we were to play on field three at eleven against Deer Valley. The whole team rushed over to the field just to find out that they decided to let Snowflake and Apache Junction play there game on field three and we were told to wait. 

We sat patiently and waited until someone finally came to tell us that we could play on field one in five minutes. Again we hurried over to field one and started our game. After a good fight and some horrible calls by the umps we, lost the game 4-6. Luckily for us the tournament was double elimination and we had at least one more game. 

Our whole team stood patiently next to the bracket to find out who we played next, but there was one problem...they took us off the bracket. We were all quite confused, so my coach asked to see the director of the tournament. When the man approached us we informed him on the mistake in the bracket and asked about who are next game would be. The director looked at the bracket and assured us it was correct. We were told that because our last game was delayed the decision was made to give our spot and game away to another team. This was upsetting to hear. My coach began talking to the director asking him to explain and trying to get us a game. The director simply turned to my coach and with an annoyed tone replied, "Why does it matter? You're just a bad team looking to play some more bad teams."

We never got to play our other game. 

It's frustrating that because we come from a small town and school we are never given the benifit of the doubt; we are always counted out. 

If playing on a team that older equipment, less than twenty girls, and comes from a small town is classified as a "bad team", then I am very proud to say I'm part of a bad team. 

I know for a fact that one thing my bad team has that a lot of good teams don't, is the heart to play and the determination to make a name for ourselves and the name across the front of our jerseys. 

I love my bad softball team. 

3 Strikes, you're out!

"They call it a softball, but really it's a yellow threaded gift from God. Revealed to each young lady that dares to play the game. Somewhere between her heart and hard work, she will find the thread that will unwrap the talent that she didn't know she had, develop the character she will always need, and transform her teammates into everlasting friends." -Unknown

 I hate to admit it, but I have never really liked or enjoyed playing softball; there was even a point in time when I absolutely hated it. I would sit in class hoping the school day wouldn't be over because I was dreading going to practice. I wasn't playing because I had a passion or love for the sport, I was playing because I felt like I had to. I thought that if I stopped playing I would let so many people down, so I told my self that I had to just stick it out even if I was miserable. 

 I am extremely content with the fact that I never gave up on playing.

 It took me four long years of playing, but my senior year I was finally able to fall in love with the sport, to find a passion for it, and feel a fire inside of myself when playing. 

 Once I lace up my cleats I don't want to take them off. As I run onto the field I have the desire to constantly be out there giving it my all. There is a certain feeling that I get when I catch a fly ball or get a good hit, which is a feeling that is  hard to explain.  I am constantly waiting and wishing for a ball to come to me and eager for that next pitch, so I am able to feel the rush once more. 

 Although there is no better feeling than walking to the stands and getting that, "Good job, I'm proud of you." Hug from my mom, the "glory" is not the best thing about softball...the best thing about softball is my team. 

 Fifteen different wild, crazy, yet amazing girls, all coming together and creating a tremendous bond. Some of us may have known each other before, and some of may be complete strangers, however, in the matter of three months we all become sisters. 

 We're with each other more than our own families...actually we are a family. We fight like one, laugh like one, and love like one.

 The season has only begun yet I already have a friendship with every single one of my teammates. I may have disliked softball before, but the group of girls that I play with have helped me to appreciate and respect it.

 This year I am going to step on the field for the very last time and hang up my cleats, however, I am truly grateful I will be ending my softball career with a team as powerful and wonderful as mine. 

Less than 24 hours

There are twenty four hours, one thousand one hundred and fourty minutes, and eighty-six thousand four hundred seconds in one whole day. Some days it feels as though time is dragging on and lasting an eternity, other days it passes by faster than the speed of light. Sometimes I wish the day would hurry and come to an end, while other times I pray time would stand still. 

I found that the days that go on and on and I wish would end, are the days which I am stuck in school and not in the mood to deal with anything. The days that I want to last forever yet go by too quickly, are the days when my sister comes home to visit. 

A surprise visit at ten o'clock at night, to kindly grace us with her presence, was what Ashley gave my parents and I this weekend. I can't decide what I enjoyed the most about it, actually getting to spend time with her, or the look on my dad's face when he saw her walk in.  

Growing up it was always my parents, Ashley, and I; we were constantly together. When she left for college our little family of four at home dropped down to an even more minuscule number of three. Nothing was the same. It felt as though a piece of the puzzle was missing. I came to the realization that from then on out things were never going to be the same. Pretty soon I will be off to college, we will both be going on with our lives, and our childhood will fade further into the past. 

This is why I absolutely love when she comes home to visit, because when she is home...our family becomes whole again. 

This weekend she was home for less than twenty four hours, but in those few hours that she was here it allowed us to dip back into the past; to pretend that things were like they used to be and that our family was the same as it has always been. 

It's sad to think that as we grow older and sink into the real world, trips home will be less frequent. That is why when Ashley is home, even if it's only for a little while, I like to take it all in and enjoy the time that we are all spending together. 

Less than twenty four hours was all I was given, but it was all that I needed.