This week, as we near the end of 2024, the writers and editors of KQED Arts & Culture are reflecting on One Beautiful Thing from the year.
T
en years ago I was a junior in college, back when YikYak was still relevant and Schoolboy Q’s Oxymoron album was brand new. Twice a week, I made my ritual trek along Chicago’s Fullerton Avenue to campus for my intro to American foreign policy class. It was only a handful of blocks from my apartment, but the cold wave that hit the city that winter made those blocks feel like miles, especially when it snowed. But the walk was worth it, because every week I got to periodically glance at the incredibly cool, cute, turquoise-haired stranger that sat one seat away from me: L.
L was every professor’s dream student to have in class. They were always ready to go when class started, spoke at least once during the discussions and took immaculate notes, and I, on the other hand, dreaded speaking up and was perpetually late thanks to an embarrassing combination of then-undiagnosed ADHD and ongoing sorority obligations. Every week I came to class intending to sit next to L so I could try and befriend them, and every week the seat was claimed before I arrived, already taken by some red-headed kid. To my annoyance, he had an absolutely glowing attendance record until finally, one class before the final exam, he was gone and the seat next to L was mine.
It was one of those minuscule moments that wound up deeply altering my future. L and I just clicked. Our relationship has changed over the course of time (friends first, followed by a brief stint as partners, then back to friends), but so long as L is in my life, I don’t care what form it takes. L has been such a monumental source of joy that when they suggested flying out to the Bay Area in March so we could reunite to celebrate our decade of love and friendship, I immediately cleared my grad school calendar.
Our friendship has endured many twists and turns, including the pandemic, cross-country moves (L to Texas, me to California), and two master’s programs (one apiece). Between in-person hang outs over the years, we’ve visited each other’s islands on Animal Crossing, FaceTimed, and exchanged birthday cards, Christmas cards, Halloween cards, and plenty of ‘just because’ cards. Once, after helping me pack up my old Chicago apartment in the early days of COVID lockdown, my dad even let me take a detour on our way back to Minnesota, just so we could wave at each other from six feet apart.
