McKenzie Le

I love people-watching. Couples walking around, fingers intertwined. One couple passes by, laughing so hysterically they almost cry at an inside joke about penguins. I pause to admire the pure bliss, merely six feet away. I wonder what it’s like–to feel a connection that deep with someone. As I sit covetously, I fail to notice Audrey and Serena, my best friends, walking toward me. Looking at them, I realize I do feel that connection. I realize love comes in different forms. I realize I have all the love and connection I need, right here. 

Ella Sotiriades
The mountainous Montana view was not the only thing that stole the breath from my lungs as I panted, hands on knees. My hiking shoes were caked with muck, and my stomach barely sated from the granola bar I had two hours ago. My brother and sister lingered a little farther ahead on the trail, witnessing my lack of athletic prowess shine. Yet, I knew they wouldn’t judge. Maybe. But, nothing could wash away the smile on my face. I cackled at their jokes and once we reached the peak, graciously devoured the sandwich my sister made for me that morning. I was exhausted, but I didn’t care. I was just glad to be with them. 

Alex Lin

The clothes she was wearing is a mystery in my mind. Everything about her is shrouded in a hazy fog and my mind can’t make out her face. Except for her smile. Even now across homecoming dinners and movie nights on her couch. I look over to her eyes and grin. As she looks back, I remember the cold church gym where I first saw that smile. First found my person. And would have a billion other firsts. Though I can’t fully remember the morning we met, her smile will always be imprinted in my mind. 

Davis Adams
A concert concludes in my ears. I feel a tear slowly slide down my face. A faucet more follows. Thom’s hopeful yet heartbreaking voice, Ed’s rockstar backing vocals–almost a refrain of his own name–Jonny’s soft guitar crescendoing into an electric ballad.

It was in the moment when I first heard “Lift” that I knew Radiohead meant something true to me. Even after the song was cut from OK Computer, the band gave it a second chance on OKNOTOK. As its lyrics remind me every time I listen to it, “Today is the first day / Of the rest of your days / So lighten up, squirt.”

No matter what happens next, the song encourages me to pull myself up, and keep pushing through life—just as the song survived being trapped in the confines of minidiscs and bootleg MP3s.
The song reminds me to get out of the lift and “go home.”

Kate Steinbach
I was nervous all evening. The day before, he had informally asked me but I still didn’t know what exactly to expect. Once most people started to head home, I was left waiting with my friends, anticipating how it was going to happen. It was time to head downstairs. I found myself outside, just us two and the humid October night. Suddenly, his friends ran by, delivering a sign reading “You belong with me at hoco!” We were soon surrounded by cheers, and I drove home that night, not knowing that our first date would be in two days. 

Elly Zhang

My brother shaved half of my eyebrow off with a pink rusty razor moving from left to right. Stubbornly straight black hair soon scattered across the restroom counter like sugar ants, his finger wrapped in a Cinderella band-aid from nicking the tip of his thumb. That was my typical kindergarten evening. The next day promised Nerf Gun target practice. Foam bullets flew in concerningly closer distances to my face, each with a promise to finish the job from the night before.

My left eyebrow has since grown back in odd angles, and the Nerf guns were left in an obscure Goodwill in Florida. But I miss those sweaty evenings in the upstairs bathroom, where destruction was entertainment, war crimes mere nostalgic pastimes, and my brother a dedicated partner-in-crime.

Sophia Zhao
Her hands are veiny and rough. I watch her roll out the soft dough and dip the dumpling wrapper in cold water. Hazy sunlight peeks through the curtains, illuminating my mom’s brown hair to an auburn shade. The aroma of fresh spices and meat fills the house, and I eagerly wait for her to sit down at the wooden dinner table. Finally, she sits next to me and smiles at my expression. She pours soy sauce and vinegar onto my plate, serving me first.
“Did you know I bought this table 20 years ago?”

Her question disrupts the silence, and I notice the rugged cracks in the wood. My mom is an immigrant, and she arrived in the US in 2000 with only $300 in her pocket. She bought the table in her first apartment in Los Angeles, California, and brought it all the way to our home in Texas. Like the table, her hands have imperfections, signs of her labors, so mine are smooth and soft. 

Rosalie Navarro
Rihanna’s “Umbrella” echoes over the ancient sound speakers. I glance over to Cate and Corrine sharing a smile. Jumping to our feet, we start dancing on the bench. For four minutes and 36 seconds, there are no thoughts of the future. Not a mention of how in 168 hours, Corrine will be whisked 4,618 miles back to Edinburgh, and we will never be campers again. At this moment, Rihanna’s words are true. “We’ll be here forever.” Forever 15, forever friends and forever ourselves dancing on benches, just being girls, a love like no other.

Bethel Kifle
I had never heard my dad laugh until I was 12 years old. We were standing in an awkwardly-lit Walmart aisle, selecting a new water bottle for back-to-school shopping. I made a lame joke about how a metal water bottle could double as a potential weapon, and he erupted in laughter. It was a shock. I had never seen him like this, overcome by his emotions. He isn’t cruel, or emotionally detached, or even missing his funny bone. It’s just the way he is. Despite this, I always knew he loved me, and hearing his laugh made me love him even more.

Macy Langland
I sat on the tan carpeted floor, a pulse rumbling through my 4-year-old body. My dad was in a chair adjacent to his classic Fender amplifier, wielding a Gibson Les Paul. I stared in amazement, watching his hands glide over the rosewood fretboard with pearl inlays. Every bend, every chord was like a shockwave; a beautiful new thing created that fled as quickly as it had come. Seeing that bond between musician and instrument, I knew what my true love would be.

Keith Luo

My grandmother, with gray hair and in her mid-70s, greeted me with open arms. I experienced culture shock for the first time in my life, stepping off the plane in Beijing. Fearing judgment and standing out, my grandmother quickly became my lighthouse. As she led me through the sprawling street markets, busy crowds and busy traffic toward the beautiful city sights, she made me feel a sense of belonging. With each dish tasted and landmark visited, she shared our family’s history, helping me connect to my heritage. In her presence, I no longer felt like an outsider among my family.