As I near the end of my first chapter at Harvard, pages filled with growth and change, I find myself drifting back into the arms of another time. 

In the in-between moments, on long walks along the Charles River, or in the stillness of my dorm, my mind flips to pages of what life was like a year ago when I had just been admitted, two years ago when I wasn't sure where I'd end up, or even four years ago when I was a freshman in high school. Through all those chapters and time; however, one thing has remained beautifully constant: my friends back home in Philadelphia.

While there are so many of you I could fill entire pages with, each one of you a chapter in my becoming, I want to recognize a few whose presence still remains even in their absence. I not only search for their qualities in the people I meet, but more importantly, I search for them in myself. They didn’t just prepare me for Harvard, they helped shape my heart, soul, and mind. 

To Messina, 

You taught me what it truly means to be reliable. Whether it was a last minute favor or just showing up when I needed someone, you were always there without asking questions or hesitation. Even now, where we live in two cities, I never doubt that you’d be there if I needed you. You have an unwavering presence that I want to embody for my friends here at Harvard. I want to be there for the people I’ve met, the way you’ve always been there for me. 

Dear Raheim,

You taught me that listening is more than just hearing, it’s presence, patience, and attention. Through every long rant about my obsessions, every voice message, hours-long call, and text, you always listened with intention. Whether it was a passing sentence or a late-night spiral, you made me feel like my thoughts mattered. Because of you, I realized that I am worth listening to, and just as important, so are the voices of others. Now, in lectures, dining halls, and quiet corners of campus, I try to listen the way you do: with care, with curiosity, and with the same kind of attention that makes someone feel like their words are safe. 

To Batoul,

You taught me patience; the quiet strength that comes from trusting the process, even when everything feels slow, uncertain, or heavy. Before you, I couldn’t sit still in discomfort, to breathe through frustration, or to be gentle with myself when things didn’t go as planned. Your calm presence showed me that patience is grace in motion. I carry that with me everyday at Harvard. On the days when I don’t want to do anything, when deadlines pile up and motivation disappears, I lean on your example. It reminds me that I don’t have to have it all figured out today; that simply showing up and moving through the motions is enough. 

Dear Bobo, 

You taught me how to think beyond myself, to make space for others in everything I do. You have always had that quiet, thoughtful consideration, where when you think of your own needs, you think of mine too. I learned that caring for yourself and others aren’t separate things, but rather, go hand in hand. Now, when I think about what I want to accomplish, I also think about how I can help others along the way, whether it’s through new ideas, volunteering, or reaching out to other first-generation students through HFGP. You showed me that to be appreciated is to be seen. 

To Michael, 

During the college application process, when I was overwhelmed with doubt, your advice grounded me. As a college freshman while I was still a high school senior, you knew exactly what I needed to hear. You gave me honest insight into what college would be like, prepared me for what to expect, and reminded me that rejection is redirection. Coming to the end of my first year at Harvard, I finally understand the perspective behind the advice you gave me a year ago. I am so grateful you gave me a glimpse into the road ahead when I needed it most. 

To the hearts that built my own, thank you. I love my life at Harvard, but it’s rooted in the lessons you all gave me long before I ever got here.

Love yours,

Sarah