Love Letters is a collection of profiles of HCUW’s editor-in-chief, Koren Kano’s, friends, friends of friends, and other loves. This series will highlight many perspectives on the college experience, reflect on moments of change and growth, and celebrate love in all its forms.
It’s a Saturday night in our third year of college and we’re tucked next to each other on her L-shaped couch. A rom-com is playing in the background, accompanied by the chatter of our friends completing a puzzle. It seems like just yesterday it was a Saturday night and the windows of her car are rolled down being that it’s Hawaii and it’s still humid even in January. On those nights, we’d discuss our problems, prom plans, and dreams beyond high school.
Keira and I have known each other since seventh grade, when she accused me of liking a boy, explicitly cheated in Algebra Bingo, and instantly became one of my favorite people in the world. To know Keira is to love her—which I fear may be an understatement. To know her is to feel immensely loved by her, too, it’s just one of her many gifts.
With friends that you grow up with in your most formative years, growing up together means experiencing their most joyful moments, going through first heartbreaks, picking out outfits for important milestones, celebrating birthdays and holidays, and knowing their goals and dreams like the back of your hand. At least, that’s what it’s been like growing up with Keira.
To begin this series, it only felt right to kick it off with her. Our conversations about growth, love, careers, dreams, and ordinary life, in a way, inspired the Love Letters series. With that, welcome to A Love Letter to Growing Up:
Keira picks up my phone call after a few rings. She’s seated on her couch and before I can ask her anything for this interview, she asks me how I am, what I did today, and what I’m up to tonight because that’s the kind of person she is.
When I ask her the same questions, she says: “I’m doing good. I walked around in the snow today at Seattle U’s park on campus, went to Elliott Bay, BLICK art, and grabbed a blueberry matcha at Anchorhead. It was a good day.”
One of our shared favorite parts about Seattle is the walkability of it all. The independence that living in a city like this impresses on you is immediate. From the first weeks of freshman year, Keira roamed the streets, eager for walkable adventures.
I tell her that I’ll miss the weekends of us wandering Cap Hill when we move back home. She tells me: “What if we live in the urban areas of Hawaii? We live in the suburbs at home. It’s too quiet in the burbs.”
“Imagine we live in Kakaako or Ward and we’re right by all the cafes and restaurants and we can just walk anywhere,” she poses.
“Is that where you see yourself in five years?” I ask.
“Yeah, I see us living in one of those apartments in town, working remotely so that we can just hang out every day” she continues.
“My next question was going to be ‘Where do you see our friendship in five years,’ but I love that you incorporated it into your answer there,” I laugh.
I know that in five years, we will have the same conversations we always have; reminiscing about things like senior year off-campus lunches, helping one another rationalize situations, and repeating the same old inside jokes.
The next question I pose: “Looking back now, what do you wish your younger self–your high school self–knew?”
Keira shares two sentences of wisdom:
- “Don’t be afraid…wait is that cliché? Well, just don’t be so afraid of putting yourself out there. Nothing is ever going to be handed to you.”
- “Quality over quantity in friendships. Surround yourself with nice people. Friendships aren’t meant to be hard.”
“Looking presently, when you reflect on who you’ve become in these three years of college, how do you see yourself differently?” I ask.
“I think I’m still growing up,” she replies.
I think that perfectly encapsulates college, especially at milestones and turning points. We might live in our own apartments now, host holiday dinners, and know how to take the train, but we’re still growing up. We might feel a lot older than the girls in the parking lot, but we’re still them. In a way, we always will be.