Hi, my name is Vaibhavi Goyal, and welcome to Choose Fullness.

I check my phone and see a text from Kate.
“Can you come braid my hair?”
“Be there in two,” I reply without hesitation.

I walk down the hall, take a left, five paces, and open the door on the right. She’s sitting at her desk, brush in hand. I ask the usual—”Did you brush it?”—because she hates when anyone else brushes her hair.

I’m not the best at French braiding; that’s Maya’s specialty. Yet somehow, even though she’s much better at it, even Maya still lets me braid her hair too.

Maybe it was never really about the braiding at all.

Adjusting to college wasn’t easy for me. I thrive on routine and structure, and when that gets thrown off, I struggle. Eventually, I acclimated to the new rhythm. I thought it was because of my color-coded calendar and the endless lists in my Notes app—but looking back, it was the people around me who kept me steady. The girls who became my first real friends in college, who made sure I was never left alone in the chaos.

There’s something about sharing small, quiet moments, even when the world around you feels overwhelming. It wasn’t until now that I realized the strongest bonds are often formed in seasons of uncertainty and change. Learning to rely on others isn’t a weakness—it’s a gift. It’s a chance to build something deeper: trust, support, belonging.

Growing up, my mom would massage oil into my hair and braid it afterward. I never thought much of it then—it was just part of the weekly routine. But now, I see it for what it really was: time spent together, quiet conversations, the way she could fix a bad day without needing to say much at all.

Sitting in Kate’s dorm room now, with a brush and hair tie in hand, I realize it’s the same kind of connection. Braiding each other’s hair isn’t just about the braid—it’s a way we take care of each other, a way we say “I’m here,” without having to say anything at all. It’s the tenderness of real friendship. The instinctive way women show love through small, unspoken acts. And somewhere between the uneven French braids and late-night conversations, that bond only grew stronger.

From back-to-back movie nights, to boba runs (more frequently than I’d like to admit), to studying side by side on Friday nights while everyone else was out—those were the moments that made this year what it was. Not the big milestones. Not the framed certificates or polished LinkedIn updates. The memories that mattered were built in Target runs that left us laughing down State Street, in finding the furthest building possible just to “study” (and mainly procrastinate), in Kate scooping my ice cream because she knew I’d make a mess of it, in Maya knowing when I was overthinking without me saying a word.

These were my big moments from freshman year—the ones I’ll hold onto.

I distinctly remember an upperclassman telling me during the first week of school, “You usually don’t stay friends with the people you meet freshman year.”

Maybe that’s true. Maybe life will pull us in different directions.

But honestly, even if we never spoke again, I would still be so grateful. Because Kate and Maya didn’t just make freshman year better—they changed its entire trajectory.

At first, friendships in college are built out of convenience—a desire not to feel alone. But the real friendships are built out of choosing each other, again and again, when everything else feels uncertain.

I think a lot about how differently this year would have unfolded if I hadn’t met Kate that first day.

My parents had just dropped me off after move-in. I stepped off the elevator holding my orange Owala, trying to look like it hadn’t just taken me five minutes to figure out how to scan my ID to get up. Kate saw me immediately and asked if I knew where an ice machine was. I didn’t—but I offered to look with her anyway.

And that’s when our friendship started.

Kate already knew Maya through social media. I met her the very next day, and somehow, within 2 days, we became a trio. Living so close helped—Kate just down the hall, Maya only a few minutes away—but the real reason we stayed close was because it never felt like a second thought to meet up, to walk to the dining hall together, or to just be part of each other’s everyday lives. And maybe we’re not living together next year—but somehow, without planning it, our apartments ended up right next to each other. 

There was never a moment I doubted our friendship, never a time I wondered if they would show up. They always did.

I’ve always heard people say someone “lights up a room”—but I never truly understood it until I met Maya. Her energy is contagious in the best way. She’s the person who can make a bad day feel light again just by walking into it.

And Kate—you’re the person who cares before anyone even knows they need it. Your kindness shows up quietly, in a million thoughtful ways that never ask for attention but always make everything better.

Maya and Kate, thank you for being the sisters I never had. It feels wrong to call you just my best friends—because you are so much more than that.

Maybe next year will pull us even closer, or maybe life will scatter us in new directions. Either way, I’ll always be grateful for the love, laughter, and light you brought into my life. You made this year feel full.

I thought college would be defined by the big milestones—the internships, the 4.0 GPA, the titles. But the most important moments from this year aren’t bolded on my resume. They’re written in the late nights, the quiet conversations, the shared uncertainty and growth.

I’ll remember the way we made a home out of laughter and ice cream-fueled debriefs. I’ll remember feeling seen and cared for without even needing to ask. A text asking to braid your hair. Mixing Poppi with vanilla creamer and calling it our official study drink. A walk back from Elliott after a late night exam.

These are the memories I’ll carry with me, even long after the details start to fade.

So remember—your glass is full. Whether you see it that way is up to you.