Reem AlBastaki

The version of home I will miss most has a half-open door, laughter spilling into the hallway, and friends who never really had to knock. Some of my favorite NYUAD memories live inside that room. From the outside, my dorm probably looked a little messy, but to me, it was sacred. It was where we sang karaoke like nobody could hear us (sorry to my RA), played charades until we were crying from laughter, and argued way too seriously about who the imposter was.

It was Galentine’s nights, Secret Santa gifts, hot chocolate, and random food experiments that were either unexpectedly amazing or completely tragic. And then there were the days beyond the room.

Trips that started as group chats and turned into adventures, sunsets, and new streets we learned to pronounce together, and the months of living abroad that taught us that home had stopped being a location.

NYUAD gave me classrooms and opportunities and challenges that shaped me. But the people gave me the comfort of being seen without having to explain yourself, the safety of laughing until you cry and crying until you laugh, and the quiet assurance of always having people in your corner.

As graduation approaches, there’s a kind of heartbreak in realizing how quickly time can move. I don’t want this chapter to end, but I also know that what we made here doesn’t belong to one campus.

These people, these memories, these lessons, they’re not staying behind in a dorm room or in a photo spread, they will be with me for the rest of my life. And how lucky does that make me?