Left Handed Scissors for Hairstylists

Roaming the Rocks
Our car eases into the sandy parking spot on the edge of the beach. As soon as my hand releases the door handle and I step outside, I digest not only the refreshing gusts of wind, but also the familiar scenery and unvarnished memories. I follow my parents hesitantly through the sand, trying to preserve the nonexistent tidiness of my beloved Converse. We make our way through the break wall where my relaxation will begin.
The break wall is an escape from the sounds of “The Price is Right”, Fox News, and various Lifetime movies ringing throughout my grandparent’ house. It is too late to stroll the quaint Main Street, but too bright to explore constellations from the sand dunes. It is time to tantalize the waves of Lake Michigan.
I take off my socks and shoes and hand them to my mother. She and my father play it safe on the strip. I head toward the excitement. I head toward my favorite part of Ludington. I head toward the rocks.
The rocks were not a part of the beach when my parents were growing up here. They were put into the lake helter skelter to shore up the break wall because of erosion. Jumping from rock to rock is my tradition, despite my age.
I place one foot onto the cool, jagged surface, and soon follow that with the other foot. While standing on the mammoth of concrete, I observe the intent fishermen and the bright blue sky about to be dyed by the sunset. I feel the exhale of the fresh breeze scatter each strand of my hair. I hear the waves lapping against the anchors that I will soon be scattering across. I curl my toes around the edge of the boulder and crouch to approach the next slab. Grasping the adjacent rock, I am able to leap and land one step closer to the finish line. I continue this pattern until I get into an accustomed rhythm.
This lasts until the jubilance and adrenaline from the ability to be brave and jeopardize my safety turns into a familiar feeling of defeat. Not even my intense focus and determination can carry my over the severely askew stones. My father instinctively abandons his duties of supervising my mother’s movements and lets me borrow his hand for assistance and relief. Once the jumbled, hazardous rocks return to a placement within my skill level, my father reappears at my mother’s side.
I remain in a trance of maneuvers. Right hand, then left hand, followed by left foot with right hand after that. This sequence continues until I run out of rocks. I have to join the rest of the public and promenade along the distinguished pathway of the Ludington Harbor Lighthouse.
Once we reach the structure, my father begins to reminisce about the stories that his father reminisces about. He discusses the absence of my grandfather’s camera when he was able to venture inside and climb to the top of the lighthouse for the first time in 77 years, and how in his youth, he jumped off into the water from a platform on the lighthouse. We stand and absorb the soothing air and the peaceful landscapes for a few moments before heading back.
I return to my routine on the rocks, listening to the waves and avoiding the fishermen. We climb back into our car and I brush the coarse sand off of my feet. We then leave the tranquil, satisfying beach behind us and drive back to the kingdom of wood paneling, playing cards, and Court TV.

Should I cut out the part about my grandpa?
There is no prompt for this essay. I used this essay for a memoir project in english last year and my parents really want me to reuse it. It would be nice to not have to write another essay, but it just doesn’t really read like a college app essay to me yet. I want to make sure that it says a lot about me. I want the reader to walk away from reading this feeling like they know more about me.

Before you cut anything, my first question would be what prompt you’re trying to address. It’s very pretty writing, but without any context, it reads like a descriptive exercise, not an essay. Even if you start in media res, you want to be very clear from the outset what you want the reader to learn about you from this anecdote, and you want a conclusion that re-emphasizes that in some way.

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