Dear Car,

The first day I met you was Move in Day. You nonchalantly got settled into the tiny room as the rest of us sweat and anxiously unpacked. When we wondered aloud why you were so calm, you had an explanation: “boarding school." As you talked to my dad about the hiking trip you went on before school started, with this group called OAE, I thought, “this girl must smoke a lot of weed.”

Later on, I learned you don't actually smoke (that much) weed — you’re just naturally that chill.You’re the friend who will stop writing an important paper at 1 a.m. in favor of going to “Hound Net” with us to get cheese doodles to chat over.

First-semester last year every week was a guessing game with you. You even moved all of your stuff out over winter break when none of us were here. You packed up and were going to take some time off, but something made you turn around and stay for the year. I’m glad you did. I’d like to think it had something to do with our semi-aggressive list of reasons for why you should stay. We signed off “SAK” and told you to look at how sad that looked, because without your C we were only Sydney, Alexis, and Katie. You stayed and we remained “SACK”— it seemed a lot more full that way.

Now, you’re leaving for real and it doesn't seem real. It feels weird to go from living with someone for two years to knowing that come next semester, you won’t even be in the same school (or on the same continent, in our case).

But I’m glad I got to have an extra year and a half to get to know you.

Together we'd perform shitty mock musicals about our lives in the middle of the Hammerman laundry room. We’d sing about stupid things that happened during our days, or the saga of our stolen bikes (which were actually hidden in a Hammerman janitor’s closet all along) and we’d wonder if anyone heard us. That laundry room had great acoustics.

I’m going to miss our late night talks about how Loyola is actually Degrassi High. I’m going to miss Taco Tuesdaying with you, and capturing with my phone’s aid uncompromising moments of you when we’re out and laughing about it the next day. I'm going to miss all of the late night pizzas, tacos, nachos, and hummus we have consumed. I’m especially going to miss the way you say “hane out” instead of “hang out.” I’m going to miss us pretending to know how to shotgun beers together, thanking the Admissions Gods that we didn’t end up at a state school.

I’m going to miss your caricatures of that one Boulder worker who never took a liking to you, and I’m going to miss how you put your soup in coffee to-go cups because you’re “going to slurp it anyway.” I’m going to miss how spiritual you are and learning about Greek Orthodoxy. I’m going to miss you narrating the Natty Boh guy’s face -- and your love for Natty Boh period.

But most of all I’m going to miss you. I struggle to write this because it’s almost impossible to capture someone’s entire essence in 500 words or less, but just know that your essence, however many short tidbits of it I can fit into one article, is something I’ll miss.

I know Fordham’s been something that you’ve wanted forever. It’s what you’ve worked for and it’s where you feel you’ll be the most fulfilled. I’m happy that you have this amazing opportunity in the palm of your hands, and I know you’re going to do amazing things.

I can’t wait to visit you at Fordham, but we’ll miss "hanin’" with you at Loyola.