[Written August 2016] I remember so much about Exeter today. I am now twenty years old. Two years into college. Two years out from 'life.' Taking a month this summer, to rest, bike and birdwatch in Southwest Texas. I couldn't sleep last night because I was spinning, remembering.
I remember my first English class with Ms. Chu, Kieran Minor read Macbeth aloud with incredible zeal. I was so inspired by his passion. He peer-edited my first personal narrative that fall and never have I been so excited by a 'great story!' on a peer edit. I remember Quincy and Holden hollering and splashing on the other side of the ice bath. Two puppies. It was easy to ice with such a great show. Then rolling out with Sam Gray and Tyler and Anika. What incredible athletes! How pleasant their energy. I remember Coach Newbald's beard and the best congrats I've ever received "nice practice ellie!" when I ran a 5:50 mile in EF practice. I remember my great adventure buddies, Josiah and Olivia. The winter wonderlands we'd disrupt. The challenge of finding a new way on Fort Rock. The sandwich bets. The sandwiches. Josiah's harmonizing lessons from dhall to class.
I remember Julia Gnip for all her love and support my junior year. I still haven't met anyone with a better quote book. I remember Lloyd and Kerrick late at the library group—solving our math homework together. I remember falling in love with Sean Lee. Who could forget Ms. Waterman bringing green apples and caramel cream cheese to my room on gray Saturday afternoons? I remember being in awe of Darby and Neva; they were the funniest and the smartest. I remember Gabby's giant bed prep year. There was China and Burger King with Karl Hahn. And there was Valerie Bright always beaming so positive and sharing snacks and snapping me back always until I fell asleep. I remember Allegra Grant, her jokes and loud footsteps. Nick Dupont for my first E.P. Stewie for being incredible in Modern China. Pakawut for his patience and kindness, and for making me feel smart and worthy despite my frustrations with chemistry, and for the most encouraging email I've ever received.
I remember a day. It was so green and sunny. Katie and I were playing tennis making jokes snorting our eyeballs out our noses. It was dinner. I went to Wetherall’s fish bowl. There was this table of warmth and welcome—Alec and Amanda and Mary Claire and Thomas. It was a table anyone could always sit at. And everyone did at some point, on days they came late or early. The table would often melt into little pods.
I remember Kwasi's goodness and his bass. Matt Greaves for hugging me in the middle of front street when I couldn't keep it together. I remember the music building for incredible music I was rarely a part of. I remember Pot hole and Jensen always making a little butt room for me at assembly. I remember Bancroft, my dear Bancroft.
I remember so much and the stuff I've forgotten, I haven't really forgotten. I carry it around with me everyday. In how I look at people in my new communities. In my relationships. How could I forget? I haven't been back to campus since I graduated in 2014. For a million reasons of course. But really just for one. How can I return to my childhood? My growing-up days? The first love, first race, first heartbroken poem? Ms. Robinson? Preeya Seth.
And—depressingly—Exeter still stresses me out, as it probably does many. Though I'm out of reach of Dean Cosgrove and the horror of D.C. The brick buildings. The fame. It stresses me out because I worry about not being smart enough, not being successful enough (I have A Legacy To Uphold), and even still not being non-sibi enough. Exeter often looms in my mind as a colossal, elite, 'smart' person institution in which I don't readily feel apart, nor could ever satisfy.
Yet, when I reflect on my high school years—which I do in times of rest, like now—I remember my friends most clearly. The people. And I want to thank everyone who was there, because I am not sure that I have. Even the people just passing in the halls or holding a door. And then everyone else who I love but haven't named.
I couldn't sleep because I miss you guys. And I want you to know.
Hike a mountain this summer, eat a sandwich, buy a crop top, pick your nose whatever. It doesn't matter what you do, what I do, to you. (It matters, rather, how we do it.) We are not competitors or A Company. You are my childhood. We taught each other how to love. For better or for worse, in my dreams, in my thoughts, in my new friendships far far away, you are there. For this, thank you. I appreciate it, and for the rest of my go at life, please know you are welcome where I am—I'll make dinner, and save a little butt room at the table.