Well-wishes from a friend. 5 days left

Last night a package from Veronica arrived, containing a 2009 travel guide to Paris, a beautiful journal, a self-sharpening pencil and a letter wishing me luck.

The last time I saw her, we met at the mall on Powell, and over lunch we discussed the upcoming changes in our lives: she’s done with school and looking for a career, I’m moving to Paris for the next ten months. It shouldn’t be surprising to learn that our conversation centered mostly on fear of growing up and of the unknown. I distinctly remember her making me swear to her that I’ll try new things.

“We have to be fearless, Claudia, fearless!” she said. It still makes me laugh thinking about it.

We first met almost two years ago, in French Composition class. I was feeling incredibly intimidated and uncertain. I hadn’t had any real French instruction since high school—about four years ago—and the S.F. campus was huge and everyone seemed to know each other and the professor was talking entirely in French (and entirely too fast). Even after I got to know my classmates’ names, I still kept quiet because sometimes I can be shy and it’s not always easy for me to make friends. I sat back and watched people instead, and there were a lot of interesting people in that class, some annoying, some nice, and a few who went on to become good friends of mine.

Veronica is one of those people. She’s one of those very lovely girls who can look cool and remote, but once you get to know her, you find out she’s smart and has a truly goofy sense of humor. Though it was pretty much the same people in our classes from one semester to the next, it wasn’t until my fourth semester that Vero and I become good friends, and I learned that my first day at SFSU was her first day as well—and that she had moved here from SoCal without knowing anyone, away from her family and friends and into an unfamiliar city, because she knew it was what was best for her.

I’m taking a page out of your book, V. Fearless. I promise.