It’s hard to believe that an opportunity I once wished for so intensely, to the point that I attempted to manifest it through texts and writings on white boards, actually came to fruition in the fall of 2023, and has now come to a close just a week ago.
When I first learned about the Mitchell Scholarship during my final year of nursing school, it seemed too good to be true. A fully funded master’s degree was just the tip of the iceberg. Trinity College offered an Addiction Recovery program that was the only one of its kind in the world, and Ireland was preparing to open its first medically supervised injection facility (MSIF) just minutes from campus. I stopped looking for nursing jobs. The more I read about the Mitchell, especially through scholar bios and blog posts, the more I wanted it.
When I received the call in November 2023 that I’d been selected, I cried. I called my closest friends and family and cried again, then went out to celebrate with my partner (I had spent the entire day holed up in my apartment, a bundle of nerves). And when I left Ireland at the end of May 2025, I cried once more, this time for everything I was leaving behind: the clients and friends I had grown close to, the routines I had come to love, and the experience of getting to know eleven brilliant students, each passionate about something incredibly unique. Lastly, I cried out of gratitude.
When I returned to Baltimore, I noticed that my whiteboard still bore my 2023 to-do list: “finalize Mitchell recommenders,” “study current Irish news,” and, at the top, a phrase I’d written and stared at countless times: “the future I want is manifesting now.” It feels surreal to be on the other side of that dream.
Thank you Trinity College and Merchants Quay Ireland for the invaluable learning opportunities, and the Mitchell Scholars for your kindness and friendship. And of course, thank you Trina Vargo, for creating and granting me this special opportunity.
As a child, I always loved the book Goodnight Moon. The simple illustrations, the rabbit protagonist, and the thoughtful ritual of saying goodnight to everything, from “goodnight mouse” to “goodnight air,” and even “goodnight nobody,” making the ordinary feel sacred. My twin sister, Christina, once told me that when she leaves a place, she doesn’t say “goodbye,” she says “goodnight,” naming each thing as she goes. I’ve started doing the same.
Unlike “goodbye,” goodnight doesn’t feel final. In Goodnight Moon, we trust that everything will still be there the next day. Goodbye holds more uncertainty. Having departed Ireland a week ago, I wanted to bid farewell to all the people and things that played a role in my life there, and whom I hope, with certainty, to see again.
Goodnight view from my Trinity dorm room
Goodnight Howth cliff walk flowers in bloom
Goodnight swans and St. Stephen’s Green
Goodnight cows, sheep, and everything in-between
Goodnight friends who traveled from far away
Goodnight Dublin, Wicklow, Limerick, and Galway
Goodnight orange, red, green and blue
Goodnight dream come true
