I began community service work when I was in seventh grade visiting my grandparents in San Francisco. My grandparents were heavily involved in church activities, so one afternoon, while my Lola was at work, my grandpa took my younger brothers and I to the soup kitchen across their apartment. Before we went there that day, every morning and afternoon I would look out the window and see a line forming outside the kitchen. In the line I remember seeing different ranges of people; ones who push a cart full of large white bags, some who don't have any belongings on them and some with. Physically, they were shrunken, exhausted, and tired. I could tell by the way some were standing, they were slouched, hands deep inside their only jacket, their faces had bags under their eyes, none were smiling at all. I was a little afraid to go near them because they gave this hard vibe off them, I felt like they don't want to be talked to or glanced at. So when my grandpa took us, I was hesitant, actually I believed I refused to go, but eventually I went. I had my ipod with me the whole time, we were inseparable back then. My brothers brought their old nintendo with them and my grandpa brought nothing, just himself. We entered the kitchen, it was a small church with the kitchen in the back. We sat at the back on the benches and partially listened to what was happening. I recall this one moment, when I think it was a Father or the leader of the kitchen, asking the homeless to recite a verse in the bible they were supposed to study in order to get extra food I believe. First two men who went received extra food, then a she-male came up. This was the first time I have ever seen a she-male before, when I looked at my grandpa to tell him with my eyes, “ that's a guy right?” he simply whispers to me “do not look at them in the eyes”. He means all of the people here. After the small sermon was over, we went to the back kitchen and help divide the food. There was so much food, some actually looked delicious, I almost asked if I can eat some. There were high school students in their school shirts, smiling while helping. I couldn't bring myself to smile, I was not happy with serving food to them. All I wanted was to hour to pass and leave. Thirty minutes into helping, I began to loosen up and smile at the people. They were very nice, they smiled when I gave them food, said “thank you”. After we left, I felt good about myself, there was a feeling that hit me making me feel happy or proud that I did something for the community.

Senior year, I began doing different community service work. After I do my hours, I feel accomplished, I did something right and good to help people. In the beginning, it was only for the hours, then I began to have fun while helping. For instance, I volunteered at a all female marathon, the only work I had to do was cheer the women and then clean up after. The women were happy volunteers were there cheering them, they appreciated that we woke up at six in the morning on a saturday to cheer for them. When they are happy, I felt happy since they appreciated us. Community service makes me feel like I've done my part in helping others and makes me feel like I need to do more.