Last week, I was lucky enough to spend a few weeks at home with my parents and my 16.8 year-old dog, Sushi Isabelle Voss. While my parents worked, I stayed home with my, now very old, childhood dog. And, what struck me about my time with my “Sushi girl” was her hope.

She was hopeful when she saw me from the first second I walked in the house. She rolled around on her back, wagged her tail, danced around my room. She wanted to play.

She was hopeful that she would get her breakfast and dinner of one third of a cup of dog food (a permanent diet that she has been on since she joined the Voss family).

She was hopeful that there would be a walk when Dad came home.

She was hopeful that there would be treats throughout the day. Sometimes from neighbors who leave her one on the front porch or from the mailman who used to give her one by the top of the driveway.

There was constant hope, and that hope seemed to be a key ingredient to fuel her long and happy life.

Now, as I am back at school in my last semester, I wish to hold some of that hope. The hope that I will learn as much as I can this semester. The hope that I will share my time, my mind and my heart with friends, classmates and the amazing community here at Harvard. The hope that each day will bring new and exciting progress and challenges. The hope that there will be sunshine on the most grey Boston days. The hope to have freedom of mind to be creative, artist and expressive about the human experience.

First days of school are both hopeful and fearful days, plunging into new learnings and new routines. But with the right amount of hope, the fear and nervousness about uncertain beginnings fades.

I hope to hope, and with that hope, fill out the story of my life, and hopefully, also help make others be the best they can be too.