Left to right: Ashley Churwin, Special Editon Editor Soliel Lara and Naomi Goundry enjoy a night off in Naples, Maine in July 2025. Lara bonded instantly with Churwin and Goundry while working together over the summer. Photo by Soliel Lara
I was at my desk job sometime during spring 2025 when a job website sent me a notification. Through a private message, a recruiter encouraged me to apply for a job all the way in Maine — a place I would have never chosen to visit otherwise.
I’ve never been afraid of moving. I was raised in seven separate homes in various states and countries. Restarting was a rhythm, not an anomaly. My ability to adjust and create friendships effortlessly became one of my superpowers. Thus, I didn’t hesitate long when I opened the message. I submitted an application and I was hired after two interviews.
It didn’t take long for the reality to set in: I would be living at a summer camp in Maine, far from everything I knew. The east coast was a place I had never been to. There was a healthy nervousness beneath my enthusiasm, the kind that indicates one’s growth. I was entering an environment overflowing with individuals from all over the world, each bringing with them their life experiences, cultures and walks of life.
Accepting this job impacted my life in ways I didn’t even expect. Because of it, I met some of my closest friends. I developed a valuable friendship with one friend from Virginia, whom I talk with almost every day. I also made a friend from London, who brought out new levels of joy through laughter and unique adventures. I instantly connected with another friend from South Africa, whom I constantly look up to, knowing that distance will never stand in the way of our friendship. I often wonder: how would our paths have crossed otherwise? Would they have?
I once sat on a couch at a tiny New Hampshire inn with 15 people, none whom I would normally gravitate towards, laughing and playing card games as if we had known each other for years. I was filled with gratitude at that very moment. If I had turned down Maine, I would have turned down this room, these conversations and these connections.
Every experience, especially the scary ones, reveals another side of oneself. When someone is placed in unfamiliar spaces, they are forced to stretch — to speak first, to listen deeper and to trust faster. By doing so, new relationships arise with people that would not have met had we chosen comfort instead.
I’ve realized I am drawn to connection. Opening up to someone and having them open up to you in return has a sacred quality to it. I was not prepared for the deeper impact that sitting in an empty treehouse with someone I had just started calling my friend, discussing parts of me that I normally wouldn’t have opened up about, would have on me.
How lovely it is to find something in common with someone who lives thousands of miles away — to discover, while sitting across from a stranger, that they are not so different after all.
It’s essential to appreciate the little things, such as a peaceful drive, a spontaneous road trip or a sunny beach day. These days are gifts. They serve as evidence that even the most basic interactions can have an impact.
I am incredibly thankful for the kinds of friendships that make me wonder, “When will I see them again?” while I’m feeling sad. Despite its weight, that question is evidence that something meaningful was formed. After leaving from Maine, I asked myself this question and soaked in the last moments I had with these individuals.
That summer in Maine made me appreciate the opportunities presented to me. It showed me to take chances, open doors and be grateful for those I meet. Not everyone will leave a mark in your life; some will come and some will go. It’s important to recognize the ones who stay, and hold on to them.
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Contact Soliel Lara Aponte via email: soliel.lara@pepperdine.edu