I spent my last two years of college living in my sorority house. You know the deal: The the true story of sixteen strangers, picked to live in a house, forced to work together, and have their lives taped…

Okay, we were definitely NOT video taped while we lived in the house. But, not unlike Real World, it was quite the social experiment. College females living communally, sharing bedrooms, bathrooms, common living spaces and lives. We went to school together, socialized together. We were basically all up in each other’s business every day. We scheduled our classes our Jerry Springer and ate dinner together almost every night, thanks to our cook D.C. We worked through conflict, we grieved over the loss of a sister, we celebrated birthdays, engagements, and graduations.

As we all graduated I stayed close with some. Some I consider my closest friends. My ride-or-dies. And even if we don’t talk every day, or every six months for that matter, I know these women have my back, and I have theirs.

Some I have lost contact with over the years. I was reminded by one in particular when I stumbled on a Netflix show about the rise and fall of the Beanie Baby. The particular sister, I will call her Diana (after that famous Beanie Baby that was supposed to be worth SO much money) spent her first semester’s worth of rent on beanie babies as an investment. It was a testament on how hard it is to go out on your own for the first time. Financial responsibility is really something that should be mandatory in high school.

But, initial disaster aside, this girl was full of life. She was a practical jokester to the extreme. For an entire semester I would find plastic gloves hidden in my things, my laptop, in my clothing drawers, my backpack, under my pillow. One time she moved my entire bed into the hallway…and because it was late I just slept there for the night.

She also cared a lot about the sisters in my sorority. I can remember her at social events looking out for others. She was not afraid to speak her mind if she felt a friend was being wronged. She and I would often have long conversations about our sorority and whether it was going in the right direction and she was not afraid to make her opinions known.

Other than the house and the sorority, we circulated in different circles and after I graduated and moved out of the house, we lost touch. She went on to become a teacher and I’m sure her fierce loyalty, ability to make her voice heard, and her jokes have gone a long way to help her be successful in that endeavor.

Even though we are no longer in contact, she is part of the fabric that turned me into an adult. Our time living together in the house was a great and difficult and experience. It forged us to grow up and to learn how to live and work with many types of people. One of sixteen roommates picked to live in a house. A point in time that has had a lasting impact, even if we have lost contact with the passage of time.