Connection: The Lack Thereof by Laurent-Sebastian

Connection: The Lack Thereof by Laurent-Sebastian - January 2026 Scholarship Essay

The first time I sat at a table where everyone laughed, prayed, and passed plates to each other, I froze. The concept of eating together as a family was unnusual—until I was thousands of miles away from home. It was then that I understood why my house felt so empty. The two cars in the driveway meant my parents were home; tripping over the toys in the hallway and Paw Patrol on the living room TV told me my little siblings were too. Every room in the house was filled, and the walls were covered in family photos. It felt less like a home and more like a movie set, everything in place, everyone playing their part, but no real love or connection behind the scenes.
With my family the scene wasn't right unless we were fragmented across the house. My parents on the couch with a Coke Zero Sugar in hand, the littles (as my dad called them) at their designated table eating the food I served them, and me at the dining table alone with my meal, entertainment, and stories to share. Mealtime in my house meant that while we were all eating the same meal, we were nourishing ourselves with our own private lives.
The separateness between my family and me left me wanting more—more laughter, more memories, and more love shared with the people I’ve spent my entire life alongside. Being Haitian meant it was normal for a small get-together to grow into a family reunion without any effort. These gatherings usually required time, energy, food, and planning, so why was something as simple as dinner together so hard to achieve? I thought that growing up in this world, without being exposed to anything that challenged my idea of normal, was all there was. That was until the summer I spent with my aunt’s family.
After my nine hour flight to London and my two hour flight to Geneva, Switzerland, my missing piece found me. I was welcomed by my aunt Kate and her family with hugs that were overdue and that rooted me again, like rain after a long dry spell. Dinner on my welcoming night was filled with laughter and joy; we were speaking our native language and eating our home country’s food. We all sat at the table, said grace, and told each other two things we liked and didn’t about the day. But the most important part was that we were all seated together loving each other without having to say it.
As the sounds of metal clinking against glass filled the room, I realized something I had never been able to put into words. Connection was everything to me: the trust someone gives you when they share something private, the unselfishness when they put themselves in the backseat and allow the other person to take reign of the conversation, the fondness when you spend time with a person and you have a connection. This was my eureka moment that gave insight to myself and provided me with the explanation I yearned for.
My family may never gather the way my aunt does and that is ok, but I’ve learned that I can still build the kind of connection I once thought was missing. When I think about the future, I see a table full of people who feel seen and loved, the kind of table I once longed for. I now know how I want to live, with openness, gratitude, and connection at the center of everything. I no longer wait for connection to find me—I create it. Whether it’s sitting down to dinner with friends or simply asking someone about their day, I now understand that family is not just who you live with, but how you live with them.