Seniors,
I’ve already written most of you letters and told you what I want to say. But I still feel compelled to write you all again. I have only spent about nine months with all of you, and while no amount of time could ever be enough, nine months is still far too short. That's not even an entire year! To most people, that may seem like a decent amount of time, but to me, it’s a ridiculously short amount. I have had the privilege to work with some of you throughout the year while some of you I have only been able to work with this semester.
I met a number of you when I auditioned for my theatre scholarship last year -- I even spent some time in an apartment with a few of you and went on an adventure that nearly resulted in my death with one of you (thanks, Lindsey!). I came to Austin College unaware of how well I would fit in with the theatre group. I didn't know if I would even make any friends -- would the seniors be mean and treat me like the stupid, gullible little freshman I was?
There were many answers to those very different questions, but the gist of all the answers are as follows: you welcomed me into the theatre with open arms. All of you were nothing but nice to me and treated me as though I wasn’t a naïve little girl whose eyes were wide with confusion. You offered me help I was too afraid to ask for and continued to offer when I didn’t think I needed it. You guided me through Ida Green(land) with a gentle hand and showed me the ropes. I started to learn how to be a techie and grew as an actor in this year, thanks to so many of you (I had never techied before "Surprises," so it was definitely not a mistake, G).
You were my mummy pineapple and my father, the Colonel. You were the entire essence of the campus to me. My sisters (sorority and otherwise). New role models for me to look up to. My fiancé. The person who helped me decide if I really wanted chicken nuggets and helped me pick out soap I didn’t end up buying. My majestic elf potato and my sleepy legume. You threw things at me and nearly got me killed (but I promise, there’s no love lost). You were my directors, my techies, my actors, my stage managers. You were my knights in shining armor — all of you, men and women (because you are boss women who do not need to wait for a man to save her). You were the ones who always could put me in a better mood (if it was holding a cat and watching one of you yell and play video games, or if it was holding a dog and listening to y’all have conversations about otherkin) and I could always count on you to let me vent (like doing a job that wasn’t my actual job, when my projector stopped working 20 minutes into an almost two-hour show, or boy troubles — because those are never ending). You were my pool volleyball team, my God-cactus’ father, my girlfriends, my teddy bears, a shirt thief and blush buddy, and the people who could always make me laugh.
But most of all, you’re my family. I didn’t know if I would find good friends when I got to campus, but I did. I may not be as close to some of you as I am others, but I love each and every one of you more than you could ever know. I am so thankful to call you my friends and I am so glad to have gotten to know all of you. I can’t wait to see what the future holds for all of you, even though this campus will never be the same without you and I will miss each and every one of you with all of my heart.
I’ll always make you breakfast, get my Vitamin C from fruit, take away your special and mess up your poster, bring whatever you want to the potluck, and make sure the peaches taste of…PEACHES. Now, go try space (hopefully you aren’t allergic), set phasers to doo-wop, and take it from “ee.” Oh, and get your vegetables (mainly bananas).
—Harri
