I am not a chef. Not even a cook. I fall into the category of people who scrounge together meals, occasionally and eagerly resorting to Lower Live. I treat cooking as a necessary but unfortunate chore. No one is to blame but myself.

London has been a dream of mine since childhood. It was a place I saw in storybooks and movies, dotted with grand palaces and cherry red double-decker buses. Hollywood’s version convinced me that it was the pinnacle of perfection, at least in the eyes of my younger self. Standing in Maloney Hall on that dull February day, I was overcome with excitement, knowing I would finally get to live out the life 11-year-old Makayla had always dreamed of.

As effective as my camouflage tactics were, two jarring words eventually reached my ears: “Where’s Jenny?” That simple phrase forced me to muster up just enough courage to allow myself to be hugged (though never hugging back), before seeking a new safe haven.

There’s even evidence for why reflecting on a past self and predicting our future is such a difficult exercise. While it’s relatively easy to recall our past feelings and recognize the differences between then and now, it’s a much larger struggle to project our own futures.

The closure of Mount Alvernia High School, an all-girls Catholic school in Newton, provides Boston College with a rare opportunity to buy new land. The University should pursue this purchase to support its students, faculty, and any future expansion endeavors.