Nora Lynn and Sophie Lindberg: Harbinger showed us that it’s OK to grow into our own identities

Whether it was in our little Highlands fifth-grade classroom where our desks were three inches apart, the Village shops, or in a park tree, if you were looking for one of us, you found the other.

Each weekend was a trade off between houses as if we were siblings with divorced parents. Our first mancala tournament, first summer camp dance, first choreographed talent show performance — all spent together. We spent the first decade of our friendship like the twins from “The Shining,” so it makes sense that we also sat hip and hip on our first Harbinger deadline. 

Like always, we quickly established a single identity — both quiet, strangely intimidating and struggling to muster the courage to interview as new staff writers. We existed only to be the PB to the other’s J. 

We liked it like that. The idea of splitting the sandwich toppings was terrifying. But Harbinger has a way of launching you into your fears. Though in finding our individual personalities, we didn’t grow apart, we just grew up.

Staff moves too fast to waste time in jobs you don’t enjoy. Halfway through junior year, we both finally knew what we wanted out of the experience. Soph became a Copy Editor and Nora went all in on design. 

Ever since the Harbinger trip to Los Angeles that Soph testifies was the best week of her life, she has been on a fast track to the LA Times newsroom, awaiting her chance to travel the world and tell stories. Even though LA is the bane of Nora’s existence, she’ll take road trips to California every two weeks if it means getting to see Soph. 

As for Nora, Harbinger helped her dig a niche for herself at East through design and art, even being commissioned for a couple of school-related designs based on her work. Her advertising projects in college and beyond will likely be getting a Soph edit before anyone else.

The confidence that Harbinger taught us allowed us to stop relying so heavily on the other. We could be the best waffle making duo without having to prove it to ourselves. 

Now, we’re comfortable sitting all the way across the room from each other at deadlines. But at 9 p.m. when everyone goes home, Nora still hijacks Soph’s basement to hangout. And every time, Soph’s dad calls “Hey Nora!” from the couch as we walk through the front door, knowing she’s there without turning around.

No matter how far apart we sit on deadline nights, how busy we get with separate projects or how different our goals become, we’ll always end up together — or at least mocking each other from across the J-room.