Eliza Quackenbush ’25. Photo by Mr. Michael Aldridge.
I was 16 years old when I left home. I got on the plane, a one-way ticket to New York, where everything was about to change. I missed my family. I felt alone. But looking back on it, I am so lucky to have had the privilege of missing them so deeply—the pain and sorrow of knowing they are not near you. But because of this, I was able to move forward. I wanted to do it, to know that that sorrow couldn’t beat me.
I was 17, gearing to head back to school for another year, then the tears hit. I was leaving my best friend behind. She was stuck there, hurting, and it hurt me. Being able to go was something I had let slip through my fingers; the time had crawled to the finish line, but it felt like a sprint. She has been there every step of the way. And I have the privilege of missing her.
I am 18, in the last three weeks of my senior year. With so little time left, I wanted to write about this place and the people who have made it what it is to me. So, thank you. May this forever be a place where our spirits run high and our tears run low. Where we continue to grow alongside each other, never knocked down but always reaching for the sky. Thank you for being the place I have called home for the past three years, taking me in and lifting me up. Northwood, you have done so much for me. You gave me my dream; you’ve given me love and joy, and most of all, you’ve given me the privilege of having people to miss. And that is irreplaceable.
As I leave, I want everyone to know that even though the time feels long, don’t take any of it for granted. I don’t want to say it, but we will never live this life again. We will never be able to experience this bliss with our friends. But be present, be kind, be known, and most of all, be grateful for the privilege of having friends you will always miss exceptionally.
