For Rachel and Shaunté

Sometime last week, I nervously asked two of my friends if they could drive and help me with a move. While I hoped for a positive response, their easy yes still caught me slightly off guard. In fact, I was sitting on the stairs at a bus stop in Den Haag when they both responded to my text, and I remember almost crying because I didn’t quite expect them to be that enthusiastic to help…

Well, we set a date for Sunday, March 22, 2026 and it turned out to be a day we will all never forget, and one I hope to write more about soon, but for now, I want to etch this feeling into words before it slips away.

I want to put into words the warmth I felt on Sunday night as I watched the video we took while driving, as we smiled and sang, as both Rachel and Shaunté took turns asking, “Are we taking that turn or the other” while I took on the role of passenger princess and kept asking, “Is that parallel parking?” Yep. I should really learn how to drive.

Rachel and Shaunté posing in the van and on a stairs. March 22, 2026

I want to hold on to the excitement I was lucky enough to capture on camera when we finally found a way out of that trauma-inducing, locked-up place where we had been sitting like ducks.

Beyond the videos I took to preserve those moments after we arranged my bags into the space, so that they might exist beyond memory, I also want to set these words down as I relive the conversations we had over food, that made me wish I had brought a notebook because they were just too “deep” to be left to the unreliable nature of memory and the forgetfulness the mind is so prone to.

Despite the chaos of Sunday and all the strange things that happened, as I watched those videos and looked at my friends, I realised that in that moment I was happy. There was a warmth in me that had nothing to do with the weather, because trust me, it was freezing.

…and the disbelief that made me question whether this is really my life, whether I am truly this privileged to sit in the company of such cheerful and wonderful women, surrounded by their laughter and their care, on a day that was never meant to be extraordinary but has now become one of my favorites.

Am I really this lucky to receive this kind of love? Because what we lived through yesterday… they must truly care for me, deeply, to give an entire day—9 in the morning to 9 at night—so generously. Is this what friendship can be? Is this something I get to call mine? I think it is. Woooowww!

I want to say all of this, and more, but words fail me.

And as I struggle to find the right words to preserve this feeling, I hope that years from now, no matter what becomes of me or of us, and no matter how time reshapes our lives, what fades and what remains, I hope I never lose this memory. I hope I never forget the kindness of friends and strangers, and that I always remember that no matter how terrible things may seem, they can become better, just as they did on Sunday. I hope I never forget that I was cared for, even when I was still little more than a stranger to them.

I hope that on days when I feel alone in a foreign country, I can return to this memory and remind myself that I have known companionship, that I may be far from family and familiar ground, but I am not alone, and I have people who would show up for me without hesitation.

I have lived it, and I will carry it forward. And yes, I will also learn Dutch, because Rachel’s Dutch yesterday made us appear more trustworthy, and removed a barrier that, even when invisible, still affected our interactions.

So thank you to my dear friends, Racheal and Shaunté. Thank you for driving 130+ miles for me, for leaving your homes so early and getting back under the cover of night, for helping me pack and unpack, for running up and down the stairs, for the laughter, for the friendship, and for your presence in my life, which brings me joy I still struggle to fully put into words.

I am truly glad I went to the after-work drinks that brought Rachel into my life and making the random FB post that brought Shaunté into my life. I will remember March 22, 2026, for the rest of my life and when I look back on this chapter of who I was becoming, your friendship will stand at the very centre of it.

Rachel and Shaunté driving. Total KMs >130. March 22, 2026.

I love you both immensely.

Yesterday also reminded me, once again, through our interactions with strangers who were kind enough to help us, that the stereotypes we carry about entire nations are inaccurate, childish, and limiting. To judge whole populations based on a handful of encounters is a disservice to humanity. Of course, judge the people you meet to hell and back, but let the rest remain unknown, unassumed, open.