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A Letter to the House I Left Behind 

By

Dear Leverett House,

I know it’s hard, but it’s time to say goodbye. You and I have been together far too long, and I think we both know it. For all the bright moments, there war far too many dark ones.

You were a godsend. When above and below me, I heard the gorilla cries of Mather, you came to my rescue on housing day. That looming monstrosity to the far east of the river was my nightmare. You, green and warm, saved me from that hellish fate, quieting yourself down outside the door as though I hadn’t heard you coming up the stairs.

But we never belonged together. I spent my year in the quiet of my single. Beautifully air conditioned, I still felt alone behind my bunny-bedecked door. I spent the year enduring your side-eyed glares in the dining hall, fearing your demons who lived across the street. My room was my hideout, yet I was always running away.

Still, I will miss you. I will miss the tutor on my floor with her makeup swatches and freshly baked goods. The ever-forgiving advisor who gave away plants. Those few kind interactions with people who won’t quite be friends but still sometimes smile at me when I see them.

I am going far away, to Cabot. There are more fish in the sea, they say, so I’m finding one. There are friends there, quiet courtyards, and open arms. I have loved her for far longer, loved her far deeper than I ever loved you.

But you will always hold a special place in my heart. I will forever say I am half bunny half fish. I am grateful for the things that happened in your walls, the late nights in my room, the warm and comforting study breaks in the evenings. We have lived together in some strange discord that still sounds something like a tune I once heard.

Yours, Megan Sims

Megan Sims ’18 hopes that she and Leverett House can still be friends.