Dreams of The Lila
Dreams of The Lila
Lila Harris had always been fascinated by the world of medicine. Ever since she was a little girl, she
would sit beside her mother, a nurse, watching her fill out patient charts at the kitchen table. The hum
of her mother’s stories—of lives saved, patients consoled, and small victories—planted a seed in Lila’s
heart. She wanted to be a doctor, a healer, someone who could hold fragile lives in her hands and give
them a second chance.
Now a high school junior, Lila had never let go of that dream. But dreams, she learned, were heavy
things to carry.
Every morning, Lila would wake up before dawn, her bedroom walls plastered with anatomy charts and
flashcards. Her desk was a chaotic mix of textbooks, notebooks, and a model human skeleton she'd
named Frankie. Between AP Biology, volunteering at the local hospital, and tutoring in the evenings to
save money for college applications, her schedule was relentless.
Her friends didn’t always understand. “Why don’t you take a break, Lila?” her best friend Kayla would
ask. “We’re going to the mall. Come with us.”
Lila would smile, shaking her head. “I can’t. I have a chemistry quiz tomorrow, and I’m shadowing Dr.
Patel at the clinic this weekend.”
Kayla would groan, but Lila didn’t mind. She loved spending her Saturdays at the community clinic,
where Dr. Patel, a kind and patient family physician, allowed her to observe. She wasn’t allowed to do
much—just organize patient files or refill supplies—but she soaked up every moment, watching how Dr.
Patel spoke to patients, his calm demeanor reassuring them even in the worst of times.
One day, a boy about her age came into the clinic, limping and cradling his hand. Lila watched as Dr.
Patel examined him, asking gentle questions. When the boy’s father mentioned they didn’t have
insurance, Dr. Patel didn’t flinch. He stitched the boy’s hand, gave him medication samples, and
promised to follow up—all without charging a dime.
That moment stuck with Lila. It wasn’t just about the science of medicine. It was about compassion,
humanity, and making people feel seen.
“You want to be a doctor?” Mr. Steele, her math teacher, asked one day when she stayed after class to
go over her grades. “That’s a lot of work, Lila. It’s expensive. Competitive. Are you sure it’s realistic?”
Still, doubt crept in at night, whispering in her ear when she was too tired to study or when a test didn’t
go as planned. Could she really make it? Could a girl from a small town with no money for fancy prep
schools or tutors really become a doctor?
Lila poured her heart into her project—a study on how access to clean water impacts childhood health
in underprivileged communities. She spent weeks gathering data, interviewing people, and building her
presentation. When the results were announced, she didn’t just win first place; she earned a scholarship
to attend a prestigious summer program for aspiring doctors.
That night, her mother hugged her tightly. “I always knew you could do it,” she said, tears in her eyes.
At the summer program, Lila met other students just as passionate about medicine as she was. For the
first time, she didn’t feel alone in her ambition. They shared stories of late nights studying, the fear of
failure, and the drive to make a difference.
By the end of the program, she was more certain than ever that this was her path. It wouldn’t be easy—
there would be sleepless nights, student loans, and sacrifices. But she was ready.
Standing in her high school auditorium at graduation, Lila delivered her valedictorian speech. “Dreams
are not easy,” she told the crowd. “They demand everything—your time, your energy, and sometimes
your faith. But when the dream is worth it, you keep going, no matter what.”
As she walked off the stage, diploma in hand, she glanced at her mother, who mouthed the words,
“You’re going to make it.”
And Lila believed her. Because for the first time, she could see herself in that white coat, saving lives,
just like she’d always dreamed.