As my time at Dartmouth draws to a close and graduation quickly approaches, I’ve been trying to make sense of the four years I’ve spent tucked away in the woods of Hanover. The ultimate irony of college is that right as you’ve settled in and established your sense of place and friendships, you have to say goodbye and start all over again. Though there is beauty to be found in new beginnings, it doesn’t seem right to move on without gratitude for the present moment.
When I started searching for colleges, I knew, unequivocally, that I wanted to be somewhere that championed its people. I wanted to be somewhere where the people made the place — not the other way around. Coming off the heels of the COVID pandemic and being unable to be surrounded by my wonderful teachers and friends left me feeling the loneliest that I had ever been. I missed the chaos of life. I wanted to wake up and not know where my day was going to take me, who I was going to meet or the conversations that I was going to have. I had taken the small delight of daily possibilities for granted, until I was abruptly reminded that the smallest delights are the greatest.
As much as never knowing what the day will bring keeps life exciting, it also makes us vulnerable. Especially at Dartmouth, we are constantly in flux, changing our classes, living arrangements and social spaces with the seasons. And though this brings change and novelty, introducing wonderful new spaces and people into our lives, it also creates a sense of impermanence that is hard to shake. At times, it has felt like I have been trying to build a life on shaky ground.
These moments of uncertainty have been my lowest on campus, and admittedly I’ve struggled at times to find my footing. But despite it all, I’ve done the one thing I had set out to do: meet some of the best people in the world.
The people in my life have taken me to places that I never expected to go: Hawaii, Seattle, London, Paris, Burlington, New York, Edinburgh, Lyon and even Mälmo, Sweden. They have opened the world to me, letting me crash on their couches and air mattresses and experience their lives alongside them. But even back home in Florida and in Hanover, my friends have been there for me in more ways than I can count. My memories are filled with laughter and long nights spent deep in conversation, little pockets of meaning throughout it all.
And once you realize that the love that you give to others and are shown in return is all that can be accounted for at the end of the day, everything else feels much less important. The grades, the job, and everything else that we pretend is important seem to fade away. It’s about the time that you get to spend with those that you love. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for my friends and family. None of us would be here if not for one another.
Anyone that knows me on campus knows that it takes me 15 minutes to walk somewhere that would usually take only 5. Being late is a vice of mine and is endlessly frustrating for anyone who may be expecting me. But more often than not, I’m late because I get caught up in conversations on the way to my destination, stopping every few seconds to quickly catch up and joke around. These moments are not meaningless. In fact, they may be the most meaningful of them all. There will come a time — quite soon for us seniors — where we will no longer be in Hanover. We’ll be dispersed around the world, no longer within walking distance of one another. It is a special thing to be able to walk down the sidewalk and recognize the faces of the few who pass you by. Treasure that. Linger for as long as you possibly can.
To all of my dear friends, to my acquaintances and soon-to-be friends, to the strangers that I have yet to meet, I love you dearly.
