Now it’s just me and Matthew sitting under the stars like it’s our anniversary. This tower was one of the first reasons I decided to come here. When I saw it in the brochure in all its majesty and glory, I just knew Dartmouth was the place for me. It was a symbol of hope despite the obstacles. I think of all the other students Matthew will call from different creeds, races, religions, sexual orientations, and backgrounds around the country. May they find the courage to listen to their hearts and choose the impossible journey, I say quietly to myself.

I rename Matthew Obi-Wan Kenobi, which clearly conveys his role as the keeper of possibility for generations to come. “Until next year, Obi.” I turn and make my way back to my room. “Wait!” I hear Obi call out behind me. “The road lies before you, Jedi, will you walk it alone?”

Before I can answer, the Defiance races toward me like ghetto superheroes. They are not alone—ancestors from far and wide make their presence known by whispering in the wind. Warriors of the fight that made all this possible for me in the first place: Dr. King, Malcolm, Dr. Angelou, Toni, Sojourner, and so many more. Earnell, Keli, and Gabby emerge next from my consciousness. I picture our gleeful reunion in the fall, ready to find new tutors and face the next round of not-so-insurmountable obstacles together. Jennifer and her prayers infuse my spirit once more. Yoda and her promise ring through me like one of Obi’s bells. Lastly, I imagine my mother, brothers, and father rooting for me by imploring me to break every barrier they couldn’t. Challenge accepted, I think to myself.

I glance up at Obi one last time and say, “Will I walk alone? Not with this many people behind me. A Chosen One never walks alone.” His hourly bells ring, celebrating the growth of another Jedi master in training.

AFTERWORD

When I was ten or eleven, my father found an old typewriter on the street and brought it home. I became obsessed, spending hours writing short stories and poems. I was living in a one-bedroom apartment in one of the worst neighborhoods in Cleveland. But through writing, I learned to create different worlds and escaped into the frontiers of my imagination. This marked the awakening of the artist within me.