Paralympian Anastasia Pagonis’ remarkable success story began when she lost her vision at age 14. Granted, it’s a tough age for any teen, but dealing with a life-changing disability made things even more challenging.

“It took me about eight months to regroup myself,” she told TODAY, “and then I got it in my head, ‘Okay, I’m blind. Now what am I going to do with my life?”

A Long Island native, Pagonis practically grew up in the water. She’d taken up competitive freestyle swimming just a few months prior to going totally blind. While she excelled at the sport with limited vision, an “abusive team” atmosphere prompted her to quit competition.

After months of therapy, however, the persistent teen was ready to get back in the swim-only swimming wasn’t enough for Pagonis. She wanted to compete.

Now she was faced with another dilemma. “Nobody wanted to train the blind girl,” she recalled in an interview with TEAM USA. “I ended up after about eight months finding an amazing coach who was willing to train me and actually put on blackout goggles to try to figure out a way for me to swim.”

By the age of 16, Pagonis was earning a reputation as a fierce competitor, taking two gold medals at the World Para Swimming World Series in Australia. When Pagonis realized her experiences and positive outlook might be a boon(益处) to others, she eagerly stepped up as a role model. “I want to help people the way I needed help,” Pagonis told TEAM USA. “I started doing Instagram and social media and was soon getting a bunch of replies saying, ‘Wow! You really helped me get through bad things,’ or, ‘I was getting bullied in school and you helped me get through that,’ or, ‘You let me know how much I was worth.’”

Back in the water, Pagonis was truly in her element. “It’s my happy place,” she told TODAY. “It’s the place where I feel like I don’t have a disability and I feel like that’s the only place where I feel free. When I dive in the water, it’s just me in the pool and I feel such a connection with it. Sometimes you need to take a leap of faith because if you don’t try, you don’t know. Always follow your dreams.”

As the fifth of seven children, I went to the same public school as my three elder sisters and brother. Every year, my mother went to the same ceremony and had parent-child interviews with teachers. And every child participated in an old school tradition — the annual plant sale held in early May, just timely for Mother’s Day. What was different was the child.

Third grade was the first time I was allowed to join in the plant sale. Originally, I wanted to surprise my mother. For lack of enough money, I went to my eldest sister and shared my thought, after which she supported me financially. When arriving at the plant sale, I carefully made my selection, inspecting each plant for the best geranium (天竺葵) and taking it home in secret. When Mother’s Day arrived, I remember how proud and delighted my mother was to receive the special gift.

The year I was fifteen, my younger sister reached third grade. In early May, she came to me full of wonder and secrecy and told me that a plant sale was to be held at school. As my elder sister did for me, I gave her some money and off she went. She arrived home full of nervous excitement, the geranium hidden in a paper bag under her sweater. “I looked at every plant,” she explained, “and I know I got the best one!”

When she gave my mother the geranium, they were both bursting with pride and delight. My mother also noticed me and gave me a soft, secret smile. With a tug at my heart, I smiled back. I had been wondering how my mother could pretend to be surprised at this gift from her sixth child, but as I watched her eyes light up with delight as she was presented with that most precious gift, I knew she was not pretending.

“Should I go? I do have a lot of work to do.” The question came from my daughter, Tracy, a college senior, who was debating whether or not to go with her roommates on a Saturday to drive to the beach and enjoy some unseasonably warm March weather.

On the one hand, sand, sunshine, and perhaps some fried food were prizes she deserved after a hard-won year of college life; on the other hand, her thesis (论文) conclusion wasn’t going to write itself. As a rather type A student, Tracy was unsure if she should go, and had asked my opinion.

As I read her text, I remembered my own college road trips in the 80s. At that time, four of us theater students, anxious and disappointed about the posting of a cast list, had driven out to the countryside through apple orchards (果园). We stopped at the side of the road to climb over a stone wall to grab some apples from a tree, taking off laughing, and ending the trip with ice-creams. I still remember sitting at a picnic table with the kind of laughter that you hope will never end.

I texted my daughter back, “Take the day off and go to the beach. The thesis can wait.” Actually, I wanted to text her much more than that. I wanted to tell her that college is for so many things—academic and personal growth and challenges, all-night study sessions, paper deadlines, and office hours. But it’s also for road trips with your roommates and a chance to extricate every bit of stress and responsibility for a few hours.

College is for the memories that you don’t think are anything special right now. But someday, one of you will say, “Hey, remember that time on the beach?” And those precious memories are worth more than any thesis conclusion ever could be.