On sunsets

My wonder at this place has yet to fade. I still see the sun crest over South Quad. I walk in the mornings, though less than I probably should during the busiest weeks of my first spring semester. I am enthralled by the world I witness. It is still new, but never unfamiliar. I wake up many mornings with some semblance of excitement or stress that disguises itself to convince me that my homework is worth doing that day. 

It has been six months since I wrote “On sunrises.” It was not long after its initial publication that Professor Nancy Michael asked me to read it during my Moreau class one Wednesday afternoon. I see a friend from that class every now and then. She still thinks about that piece from time to time. It still hangs on former Viewpoint Editor Liam Price’s wall, primarily for the impressive formatting of my sunrise image onto that edition of the paper. I had never shared my writing, making the kind reaction to that piece one of the reasons I continued as a Viewpoint columnist. 

Every sunrise has a sunset, and this will be my last column. I have watched fewer sunsets than I have sunrises, making my perception of this first year of college as one long day. My instinct is to turn my head to the right when I exit Alumni Hall. The left is so uncomfortable sometimes. Endings are so uncomfortable. All things must end in some way. 

I end as I began: admiring the beauty of a wide sunset as I run toward it on an evening run or stop to snap a picture while I walk to dinner. It’s less intimidating than it was six months ago. Its breadth is not something I have to manage. I can just admire it. Sometimes I see it fall over the Rock. Or perhaps it's the streets and neighborhoods of well-constructed Airbnbs that surround this campus. It always goes down. It may be at a different time each day, but it lowers into the night’s palm before it repeats the cycle the next morning. 

I admire the interconnections at this place. The buildings that fit together and the people that mill between them. Many move like clockwork, but some admire the places on this campus. Few are awake for the sunrise, but we all see the sunset. It’s a communal experience juxtaposing the solitude of the sunrise. 

I’m lucky enough to write about it. That is possible thanks to the many Observer editors that have read and published my pieces. My family and friends back home have been incredibly supportive, as well as friends on campus who have complimented (and criticized) my work over the past six months. 

I’m leaving now to become a copyeditor, at least for the next semester to cover study abroad-induced shortages in the Viewpoint department, as well as assisting outgoing editor Abby Hernan and incoming editor Reddy Bernhold with their work.  

It is time I leave you for a while. We’ve grown a lot together, haven’t we? I am different than who I was a few months ago. Don’t worry, though. I’m still me. The same me I’ve always been. Better, even. It was a year of momentous chances I am proud to share with you, even my vulnerabilities. Thank you for this privilege. I hope I gave you as much as you gave me.