Have you ever felt forgotten in the middle of nowhere? Have you ever felt like you could disappear? Like you could fall, and no one would hear?

When I arrived at Harlaxton in January, part of me had set my expectations low. I anticipated that I would make no friends to travel with. I expected to live in the carriage house, not the manor. I anticipated having an awful roommate who snored loudly every night. I figured if I thought this way, I couldn’t be let down.

For the first two weeks, I exhausted myself with introductions and putting myself out there. I said yes to things I would usually run away from. I sat with countless strangers at meals. I tried tirelessly to find my place here. It was incredibly difficult, and I had never been so tired, lonely, or afraid in my life. I remember the night I texted my bible study in tears and asked them to pray because I wasn’t fitting in anywhere, and I was so afraid that wouldn’t change.

Well, let that lonely feeling wash away.

Fast-forward three months. I was placed in the carriage house, not the manor. Instead of an awful roommate, though, I was given Emile. My neighbor was none other than Hannah Welsh, one of my very best friends from my hometown. I met people like Jesica, April, Allie, Katie, Sarah, Layla, Tatyanna, Crystal, Heidi, Riley, and Sydney. I became closer to Austin, another friend from my hometown. I traveled to places all over Europe, and even made friends on my solo trip to Amsterdam. At Harlaxton, I was the farthest thing from alone.

When you don’t feel strong enough to stand, you can reach out your hand.

Harlaxton isn’t perfect, but in a way it is. It’s mix of the good and the bad that makes it exactly what you need when you didn’t even know you needed it. I stayed up all night working on assignments and had to break down and cry while working on other assignments. I had very few cases of drama, but I learned how to move on from them in lightning speed when they did occur. It was a chance to be a child again and simultaneously challenge myself to be more of an adult than I’ve ever had to be. When I struggled, I had someone to encourage me or wrap me in the tightest hug I didn’t know I needed.

There were 170 students at Harlaxton this semester—the largest class the manor and staff have ever seen. As someone who applied the day before the deadline and somehow still managed to get in, this fact hits me hard every day. I was meant to be here with these people, and every one of them was meant to be here too.

My sweet friend Jesica was meant to turn from a stranger at dinner to my first friend, and one of my most treasured friends the entire semester.

April was meant to make me feel comfortable singing loudly like no one was listening (even when everyone was) and to brighten every day I got to spend with her.

Allie was meant to make me laugh, let me say the stupidest things without judgment, make me want to work harder in class, and make me feel so loved in her own special way.

Katie was meant to be the relief in every situation, because every time she’s around, you just feel better than when she’s not.

Sarah was meant to be the sarcastic encourager, by which I mean she will be sarcastic with you all the time, but will encourage you more than anyone else I know.

Layla was meant to be the bright yellow sunshine in the middle of an English rainstorm.

Emile was meant to be the best person to share a room with, from my cleanest days to my messiest days and every day in between. I feel like I had a semester-long sleepover, and I wouldn’t have wanted to have it with anyone else.

Tatyanna was meant to be my smallest friend with the biggest personality who brought the biggest smile to my face every time I got to see her.

Crystal was meant to transform from quiet to talkative before my eyes, making me feel so loved and giving me a friend I would fly to Oregon for.

Heidi was meant to write down what everyone else is incapable of putting into words, love so fully and intentionally, hug me tight when I don’t know I need the tightest hug, and make me cry joyful tears at the sight of her.

Riley was meant to make me feel excited and joyful in the middle of normal, everyday occurrences.

Sydney was meant to be the one to show you what it looks like to be loving, patient, and kind all at once, all the time.

Hannah was meant to be the little piece of home and the best wakeup call, who made me realize just because no one else is talking doesn’t mean you have to be quiet too.

Last night I sat in denial of what couldn’t possibly be my last night at Harlaxton. I laid under the cedar staircase with friends, the same thing I did only a few months ago when we’d first arrived, and I reflected on the memories I’d made. Many of the images that flashed through my head were of my friends laughing on the red seats in the refectory, peeking around library desks to whisper something to me while we tried to study, or running down stairs singing at the top of their lungs with me. I looked back to the first weeks of January, where I thought I was struggling to find people who would want to be friends with me for the semester. Instead, I found friends who would want to be friends with me for the rest of my life.

If you only look around, you will be found.

Farewell Harlaxton, my greatest adventure.

 

This post was inspired by this post by my friend Katie and this song by Lin Manuel-Miranda and Ben Platt. I strongly recommend both.