On June 11th, 2010, the Kahan family navy Subaru pulled up in front of 1351 Irving Street to drop me off for the summer. Standing by the road was Rachel Pauline, twenty-four years old and wearing a light grey summer dress with matching flip flops. She helped Dad and I unload the car, and then we went out for dinner at a nearby Mexican restaurant. A positive energy lingered about that night, and throughout that weekend. It almost felt like I was being dropped off for summer camp again, only better, because that summer I could spend with my sister. That timeframe held all the promise in the world, as I was to try out a city I hoped to make my future home, alongside Rachie. Visiting Rachel in D.C. was always a joy, as it was clear how much she loved this city. The very first time I visited Rachel here was in October of 2007, when I stood in awe in front of her wide shoe selection and commented to my mom that our Ray now had real working shoes. As you guys know, Rachel was fun, sharp, witty, and very caring. Nearly every corner of this city is filled to the brim with memories of Rachel. We toured the Monuments at night together to avoid the heat and tourists; we hit up the Georgetown shopping area numerous times; we had Christmas Eve dinner at the White Tiger where I accidentally sat on the tablecloth, taking the entire table setting with me, but Rachel still put up with me; we frequented Filene’s Basement and when the escalator went too quickly for my tastes, Rachel assured me it was merely chanting “buy a matching purse, buy a matching purse;” we supported each other during various incidents of digestion issues, including the time I got ill from a sketchy Wendy’s on the way to white water rafting in West Virginia. Rachel was full of practical D.C advice, such as that time she told me, “Dude, you think it’s going to be ninety-five degrees here in the summer, but once you’re in an office building it will be sixty-eight air-conditioned degrees and you’ll get the sniffles. Bring a sweater.” It was clear how much RP belonged in D.C. Her visits home to Michigan were always treasured, but her life was in D.C. Everyone understood that except for her aging cat Ziggy, who used to show his disapproval on the furniture. Like everyone with good taste, Ziggy simply adored Rachel. For years, a loosely outlined plan was developed for me to join Rachel here. At first it was merely a concept, but as I found more direction, it was beginning to take shape. I used to tell Rachel, “I’m not moving here for you dude. I’d be moving here to enter Thomas into the annual Prince of Petworth Coolest Pet Competition.” But that wasn’t true, and Rachel knew this city only appealed to me if she were here. This winter she began to say about my moving here, “that is some poor planning, dude.” Rachel of course was right, and I mourn the future we would have had here together. I am however extremely grateful for the five wonderful years Rachel spent here, as well as for the friends who surrounded her. We’re united by Rachel’s memory and I know that after tonight each of us will go about making our Rachel proud, no matter where our separate paths take us. Rachel had fantastic friends, who stood by her through everything. So to everyone here, I say “thank you for loving my big sister.”