Julia Nguyen

When my parents visited me at college for the first time, they were impressed by how many people I greeted on the way from the front gates to my dorm. It’s one of the things I love about Georgetown: the close-knit community where everyone knows one another. However, a side effect of this proximity is a culture where everyone also knows everything about each other. I notice that much of the way we bond is through gossip.

“I’m waiting for it, that green light, I want it.” These lyrics from Lorde’s “Green Light” rang in my head when I returned to Georgetown University for the Spring semester of my first year. Although “Green Light” is about recovering from a breakup, I interpret Lorde’s longing for “that green light” as a broader search for hope and clarity — two things I’ve desired and struggled for over the past couple of years.

“Hey Julia, would it be possible for me to borrow your keys to the Reynolds Hall practice rooms?” my old duet partner from chamber music class asked me. “Of course. You can keep them. I won’t need them any time soon,” I replied. The clang of my keys echoed as she walked down the hallway — a quiet farewell from a relic of my past. A year ago, I could never have imagined doing this. Piano was the best thing that ever happened to me.