Are there any errors in this college application essay What can I improve?

Question

She sat before me on the edge of the bed smiling, with her leathery hands intertwined and placed upon the crocheted blanket folded out over her lap. There was a certain beauty in those purple age spots that crawled up the sides of her arms and pigmented her tan cheeks in small, abnormal patches. Previously I had seen pictures of her when she was younger; a pale-breasted enchantress, with the brilliant eyes of a young doe. And now, before me, she tried to procure this seductive look with a sweet smile, as though I was one of the many men she had courted. She was nothing of her former beauty, I concluded, as I studied her snowy hair in contemplation.
I was only twelve then, an awkward girl of little conscience, who would rather sit in her room and write dark poetry than meet her own grandmother. There was little she could offer me, or so I thought; an old woman, born in 1905, old enough to be my great-grandmother.

There was little she could offer me, or so I thought; an old woman, born in 1905, old enough to be my great-grandmother. She’d lied about her age to grandfather and given birth to my father when she was forty-five, although we never discovered this until writing her death certificate three years later. Of course it was not abnormal for someone of her descent to live or long, or bear a child so late in life. As Ukrainian Jew, blessed with the fruitful genetics of the Ashkenazi, she could easily get away with telling grandfather she was twenty, when in reality she was thirty.
It was a very awkward occasion, as I remember it, when my parents let me be alone with my grandmother. I suppose they expected something miraculous to happen in that nursing home; that I would fervently bond with her, or some secret unspoken of for years would escape her lips. Yet nothing so captivating occurred and we sat there together in silence.

. If I had asked her, “Grandmother, tell me of your past! Tell me of the Ukraine, of Yiddish, of how your mother would make latkes and the synagogues in your country,” she would have only turned those doe-eyes away from me focused her attention outside.
This is precociously what she did, although I neither thought of nor directed these words toward her. My parents had arrived late into Virginia due to poor weather, and seizing the one opportunity to meet her, we came after nightfall on the night of a harvest moon. This moon seemed to bring her particular delight and in a soft voice she recommended we go outside to the garden for fresh air. There was nothing I could do but be obedient, as she rose to her ancient legs and led the way.

It was outside, underneath the light of the moon, that I gained enlightenment. A shining sheet of dew coated the paved walkways, endowing them with a sort of lifelike animation, as though the stones themselves were forged of flaxen pearls. The moonlight, unable to contain its passion, madly threw itself against the pale bosom of its lover. I turned my lips up toward the great orb and let it embrace me, noticing for a moment the sparkle in my grandmother’s eyes.

It was not until three years later, upon opening a sealed box that she willed to me, that I reflected upon this sacred moment. A beautiful diamond engagement ring, engraved with TM, lay amongst the scattered photographs of her youth. For a moment my thoughts transgressed onto that faint sparkle in her eyes as she stood bathed in that moonlight, its milky light kissing her cheeks. I still today wonder what exactly she was thinking, for her eyes to become as brilliant as that precious jewel. Was the moon to her a faithful lover, who embraced her even now in light of her age marks and snowy hair? Or was it, perhaps, simply a symbol of the times long past; of the things she could never return to but was unable to abandon as the past?

Answer 1

This is an excellent piece of writing--a little florid, maybe, but well-handled and mature. I would only reconsider a couple of words choices: "abnormal" in line 4 and "procure" in line 6. The former might be replaced by "assymetrical" or "irregular"; the latter I would change to "produce" or "recreate." You know what you mean to say, but just be sure of it!

Then near the end I would change "arrived into" to "arrived in" and "due to [bad weather]" to "because of." (I can't see that part of your essay while I'm typing my answer.)

It's hard to imagine that any admissions officer who reads that essay wouldn't be eager to enroll you!

Answer 2

I copied and pasted the whole thing and fixed it as I went.

She sat before me on the edge of the bed smiling, with her leathery hands intertwined and placed upon the crocheted blanket folded out over her lap. There was a certain beauty in those darked aged spots that crawled up the sides of her arms and stained her tan cheeks in unusual patches. I had previously seen her younger self in pictures; a pale-breasted enchantress, with brilliant eyes that flashed like a young doe. And now, before me, she tried to reproduce this seductive look with a coy smile, as though I was one of the many men she had been courted by. I studied her snowy hair in contemplation- she had lost her former beauty.
I was only an awkward girl of twelve then, who would rather sit in my room and write dark poetry, than meet my own grandmother. There was little she could offer me, or so I thought; an old woman, born in 1905, old enough to be my great-grandmother. She’d lied about her age to my grandfather and given birth to my father when she was forty-five, although we never discovered this until her death three years later. It was not unusual for someone of her descent to have a long life, or bear a child so late in life. She was a Ukrainian Jew, blessed with the fruitful genetics of the Ashkenazi,. She could have easily gotten away with telling grandfather that she was twenty, when in reality she was thirty.
It was a rare occasion, as I remember it, when my parents let me be alone with my grandmother. I suppose they expected something miraculous to happen in that nursing home; that I would fervently bond with her, or some unspoken secret would escape her lips. Yet nothing so captivating had occurred and we sat there together in silence.

If I had asked her, “Grandmother, tell me of your past! Tell me of the Ukraine, of Yiddish, of how your mother would make latkes and the synagogues in your country,” she would have only turned those doe-eyes away from me focused her attention outside.
This is precisely what she did, although I neither thought or tired those words toward her. My parents had arrived late into Virginia due to poor weather, and seizing the one opportunity to meet her, we came after nightfall of a harvest moon. The moon seemed to bring her particular delight and in a soft voice she recommended we go outside to the garden for fresh air. There was nothing I could do but follow, as she rose to her ancient legs and led the way.

It was outside, underneath the light of the moon, that I gained enlightenment. A shining coat of dew coated the paved walkways, enlivening them with a lifelike animation, as though the stones themselves were forged of flaxen pearls. The moonlight, unable to contain its passion, madly threw itself against the pale bosom of its lover. I turned my lips up toward the great orb and let it embrace me, noticing for a moment the sparkle in my grandmother’s eyes.

Three years later, after opening a sealed box that she had willed to me, that I was able to reflect on this sacred moment. A beautiful diamond engagement ring, engraved with TM, lay amongst the scattered photographs of her youth. For a moment my thoughts transgressed to that faint sparkle in her eyes as she stood bathed in that moonlight, with its milky light brushed onto her cheeks. Even to this day, I still wonder what was she thinking, for her eyes to become as brilliant as that precious jewel. Was the moon to her a faithful lover, who embraced her even in light of her age marks and snowy hair? Or was it, perhaps, simply a symbol of the times long past; of the things she could never return to but was unable to abandon as the past?

Answer 3

It is such a well-written piece that I am loath to point out what are little more than petty objections:

Procure mostly means to "buy" or obtain elsewhere, when you are trying to communicate something else, like assay or promote, or SOMETHING.

Precociously should also be replaced with something else, like precisely.