Reaching out with my emptied salsa jar in hand, I watched the tiny brown seeds skitter down the glass concave curves. I had decided then that I would commit myself to nurturing my plant. The first few days of nurturing my sprouts, I stood examining my jar restlessly, jostled and annoyed that my sprouts were still ripe seeds while that of my classmates were sprouting tinted yellow and white stems, escaping its brown shell. Though this didn't hinder my determination to rinse my sprouts routinely. I was committed to my sprouts just as much as I was militant about getting a good education. Soon enough my sprouts were more than eager to break out of their bitter brown shells and greet me. Seeing the abundance of my sprouting seeds, I knew I had done my job and in return, the sprouts had offered me happiness and pride. I held my jar up to peering dubious faces with a self-sufficient pride that no one could ease me out of. Having grown my own food, I had gained a fruitful and prolific experience. The feeling of self-sufficiency was more than valuable but sacred because I had acquired the same feelings as our hunter-gatherer ancestors felt.
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