By Manny Coates ’27
Hello guys, I’m back with another sappy summer reflection—but this time I’m a senior, so listen up. If you’ve ever come across my blogs before, you know I love to reflect on my past experiences, because honestly? That’s what college is all about—the experience. The friends you make, the lessons you learn, the time you share in this beautiful place together. The first time that was really put into perspective for me was the summer before junior year, when I claimed I was having a quarter-life crisis 😭—full transparency, I think it actually was. But now it’s the summer before senior year, and even though I should be anxious about the future, I’m not. So I’m here to tell you why.
Now you might be wondering what exactly triggered my junior year crash out, so let me set the scene. I had just finished my sophomore year and was officially halfway done with college, which is scary enough as is. Then my friends started talking about their plans to study abroad, as if a summer apart wasn’t long enough. And as I remained on campus watching them all depart, passing along my farewells and shedding a few tears along the way, it hit me like a bus—when would I ever have the chance to be neighbors with all of my best friends? We may not be neighbors exactly, but the point was, and still is: when we graduate, we’re going to leave this beautiful place—and what, if not this milieu we all share, would keep us connected despite the distance?
So here’s the big takeaway: the time you spend here, the people you meet, and the experiences you share will ultimately change you. But when you’re looking to the future wondering where you’ll go next, the most pervasive memories will be those of the community you built along the way. It’s scary to think about, and it can be upsetting to rationalize—but what’s important is that you remember. Remember your friends and all of the time you’ve shared, remember the place where that time was shared, and remember that the foundation you set here will determine the strength of your relationships going forward.
That means showing up, getting involved, and making sure that when it’s time for you to walk across that stage, you can look down to the crowd—your classmates, friends, family, your people—and know that your story doesn’t just end here. College may be an ephemeral pleasure, but you’ll leave with stories that can last a lifetime, so long as you nurture them, cherish them, and reinforce them with continued efforts to show up for the people you made them with. The fear of dissolution is valid—after all, it’s natural to drift apart—but that doesn’t mean it’s absolute, and it definitely doesn’t mean you have to fear it.
So how did I get over it? I doubled down on my relationships. I show up for my friends whenever I can, because it’s only going to get harder. I make plans for the future with the people I love, because I want them in my life regardless of where we end up. And while I don’t want to undermine the importance of prioritizing your work—there’s a balance. You have to compromise for the people you care about.
Because here’s the truth: the fear of losing your friends after graduation isn’t really about graduation. It’s about right now. The habits you build here, the effort you put in while you’re still sharing the same sidewalks and dining halls, that’s what determines whether those relationships survive the distance. If you aren’t compromising now—making time, showing up, choosing your people even when it’s inconvenient—then the fear you have about losing touch later is justified. Not because distance makes it impossible, but because you didn’t reinforce those bonds when you had every opportunity to.
You’re never going to have more access to the people you love than you do right now. Use it.