Some of my best days at Northwestern have been haircut days.

My stylist Marta routinely takes a number one clipper to the sides and generally a quarter inch off the top, give or take a few times where I’ve ventured shorter or tried to grow it out. And while a good haircut in itself can go a long way in making one feel fresh, clean and on top of the world, Marta’s compliments truly go the extra mile. She’s told me I look like Ricky Martin (I don’t see it, but I’ll take it), a model, and once when I pointed out a magazine cut out of a man with the style I wanted, I told her “If you can make me look like him, that’ll be great.” Her response: “Oh honey, you’re gonna look better than him.”

Beyond the face value self esteem boosts, Marta and I have shared simple pleasant moments. She’ll bounce ideas off of me around Christmas time for a present for her nephew. I’ll tell her about a trip I just came back from. Or we’ll both just sit there in silence, acknowledging that casual chit chat for a solid half hour can just be kind of silly.

I’ve gone to Marta before formals, before nights out in the city with friends. I’ve sat in that chair ruminating about a midterm I thought I bombed, and I’ve sat there beaming silently about a recent student leadership position I’d achieved. Hair always grows (knock on wood that mine will continue to), and haircuts are one of the most consistent occasions in my life.

And when I went back to Marta a week or two ago, we both realized it may very well be my last time getting my hair cut with her (with no offense to Marta’s good work, I recently just sheared it all off in the interest of staying cool in the summer, seeing what it felt like and just change in general). She told me they were going to miss my hair at Frida Hair Studio.

In that moment I realized that how pockets of community can crop up where you least expect them, and the unexpected, seemingly mundane small things can make a place feel like home. It simultaneously made me feel sad to leave a place that’s turned into home before I ever really realized it, but happy to know that wherever I go there will be more opportunities to build community, whether that’s in the work I do, the friends I keep up with, or the people I see regularly in the spaces I take for granted.

I’ve learned many things at Northwestern—writing good ledes, analyzing works of literature in foreign languages, basic theories of microeconomics, etc. etc.—but one of the most valuable has been learning to truly invest myself in my surroundings, give off positive energy and participate. Even still, some days are better than others. My default is to close off and invest my time school or work or Netflix when I could be investing it in myself or those around me.

This school has pushed me further than I ever thought I could go, and it’s been both difficult and imperfect. It’s incredibly easy for us to get swept up in our respective student groups and classes, so easy to never interact with people outside of the organizations that we program into our GCals, so easy to only associate with people we believe have something to give us professionally or academically or socially. At the end of the day I can walk away proud of my achievements. But what even makes these worthwhile are the strong personal connections I’ve made over these four years, whether they’ve been made over something as absurd as making a Facebook profile for a dorm room goldfish, or something as intimate as eating Sarpino's at 3AM with a good friend, or something as ordinary as getting to know the baristas at Norbucks on a first-name basis.

There’s more to come. My hair will keep growing, and I can only hope I’ll ever find anyone as reaffirming as Marta to help me out with that. I’m grateful for these four years, and I can’t wait to see what’s next.