Everyone has an experience that makes other people look at him/her in awe or it makes them cry with laughter or it touches their heart and encourages them to fight for something (or someone) they love or…I could go on and on about other people’s stories. My story isn’t like that. My life isn’t filled with crazy adventures and embarrassing moments where I can look back on and laugh, although I do cringe and giggle once in a while when I think back on a weird thing that unknowingly slipped out of my mouth.

It was just this past summer when I realized I had to do something with my life. I couldn’t just sit around worrying about the SAT all day, while my cousin and his family, who visited us in America, explored the wonders of Costco and industrial organic products at Sprouts. In July, we were to go on a road-trip to the Grand Canyon, to Yellowstone, to the middle of nowhere in Idaho, to getting stuck in the scariest rainstorm I’ve ever seen in Nevada, to San Francisco, and finally, back to California.

On the way back home, we stopped at Monterey Bay, just a few miles south of San Francisco. I was running along the sidewalk in my rainbow flip flops, and, if anyone knows anything about running, it’s that flip flops are most definitely not the right type of shoes to be running in.

I was running along the sidewalk, ahead of my dad and my relatives from China, when the stoplight in front of me turned red all of a sudden. I halted to a stop, turned around, and ran back to my family. Unfortunately, right when I turned around, the light became green again, but like all normal people, I don’t have eyes in the back of my head. So, I ran back to the stoplight again and jogged in place for a couple of minutes. This repeated for around 4 times (and my family was already ahead of me by this point), before I decided enough was enough and I wanted to cross the flippin’ street! I finally caught up to my family and decided I shouldn’t risk injuring my foot for the rest of my life (sorry Coach, XC’s not worth it). We strolled to the bay, where hundreds (more like tens) of sailboats were parked in the harbor when suddenly I overheard a mother yell to her preteen son, “Quick! Stand here so we can get the seal in the picture!”

Since I hadn’t seen a seal in years, as I live in the suburbs, I whipped my head back and glanced around, trying to find the source of the voice. I finally noticed their family in front of the gate to the harbor, the gray, snub-nosed seal wiggling around in the background. Now, I feel like I must justify my actions starting from this point on. I was already tired from walking all day long, including running for a couple minutes previously, so I must have either accidentally missed my family calling me to “Zou kuai yi dian!” or I subconsciously (& purposely) blocked out all unnecessary noises as I stared at that seal.

Something clicked in my brain as I ogled at the seal I named Timothy (nickname: Timmy). Timmy didn’t look like he was enjoying his time out in the sun, as all seals seem to do. He wasn’t lazing around, soaking up the sunshine, or napping. Timmy looked like he was struggling for air. He waved his nose around in the air and to me, it looked like he was signaling for help, although I couldn’t see if he was choking on plastic or if he was injured in any way. I hesitated for a moment: Should I call for help or should I go on with my life, pretending I didn’t just witness a dying a seal? Unfortunately, no one else seemed to notice this poor seal, so I was off on my own.

My family had joined up with me by this time, but they, too, were unconvinced by Timmy’s pleas for help. By this time, my brain had already mapped out all the pros and cons to calling for help, and I decided I could spend 5 minutes of my life doing something significant. I marched on over to the nearest call-for-help booth I could find and asked for the number that saves seals (No, I do not know the name of the speed-dial; stop asking me!). I shakily dialed the number on my phone and decided to myself that if I say something stupid, at least I won’t know the rescue-seal-worker personally.

Unfortunately, by this time, my family was again urging me to catch the bus, as we were leaving in 1 minute. The conversation passed by in a blur; the only thing I noticed was the creepy-looking man sitting across from me in the trolley, probably eavesdropping on my conversation.
Now, this is just the gist of the conversation.
“Hello?” said a woman with a soft, high voice. I imagined a mid-20’s young lady who was secretly laughing herself silly listening to me.
“Yes, hi. I found a seal on Monterey Bay that looked like it was struggling to breathe.”
“Okay, where are you right now?”
“Monterey Bay.”
“No, I need to know the exact location. Which street are you on?”
“Ummm…” I internally cursed myself for not researching all I could on how to call for help.
Flashforward 5 minutes.

“What color was that seal? Did it have a flat nose? Did it look like it was struggling to breathe, or could you see it choking on something? How healthy did it look? What would you rate its vitality from a scale of 1-10?”

I had no idea something as simple as saving a seal’s life could be so complicated! I answered the questions to the best of my ability, trying not to notice my cousin giving me the stink-eye and pointing to something outside the window. This was the first time I’d ever called a professional in my life! I had to concentrate, but my heart was pounding a million times a minute.

Finally, we ended the conversation. I glanced out the window to see what he was pointing at. On the deck next to the first dock were approximately 70 seals all lazing around in the sun. My cousin laughed and said in Chinese, “I think that seal wasn’t actually dying. He was just sun-tanning!”

I slowly turned back around in my seat. What was the point of my calling for help? Was that why everyone else didn’t notice a perfectly normal seal relaxing in the sun? (To be fair, Timmy did look like he was dying). I felt mortified and slightly useless. Did my first attempt at creating change really amount to nothing? I sat there pitying myself for another 5 minutes before my dad, wisely, saw the look on my face and said to me, “Stop feeling bad for yourself. You did the best you can, and if the seal was dying, then you just saved a life! And if it wasn’t, you should be rejoicing right now! A life didn’t have to be saved after all!”

I realized that day that when I choose to help other people (or animals), my goal is not to serve myself. I do not need to prove to myself whether I am capable of saving other things, as it’s definitely not my job to do so! But, when I choose to carve time out of my life to change something in this world for the better, my focus should be on the situation at hand, not selfishly clinging on the idea that I deserve recognition for an inherently selfless act. Look at the irony in that! I hope that one day, I can learn to approach things with a wide-eyed, childlike view of the situation because children are the ones who notice the smallest details.

Wherever Timmy is now, I wish him the best. Whether he’s still alive and swimming joyfully in the ocean, or whether he was stuck somewhere on a harbor again, I hope someone will have the compassion and the “seeing-eyes” to notice the help.