And the sadness comes

I’m finally done with my last final, which marks the end of my academic path here at Mount Holyoke. And now I can finally allow myself to be sad.

Four years seems like a long time, when you’re just entering college. And it is. Four years can be a lifetime of memories, built with the people you meet. In four years, you forge bonds with the sisters you’ll never forget. But four years is not enough.

Sometimes you take the world for granted. You think you have all the time in the world to explore; to do different things; to go to that event the next time. And sometimes, time runs out. There are so many new things I’ve discovered each year, and there are still so many things I still want to do.

Even though I’m glad to be done with my work, I want to take more classes. I want to move out this year, only to move everything back in the fall. I want to walk into Blanchard and eat with my friends, to have meal swipes. I want to go to more dining halls, even though the menus have gotten worse over the years. I want to go to non-cultural events, sports events, things I never thought were that crucial enough for me to go to. I want to return to this environment of privilege, where I am a woman who has a voice and no man can take that away from me.

I want to sit on the carpeted floor of someone’s room, eating ramen noodles over a pot, and microwaved rice with kimchee. I want to meet the wonderful women who will be entering in the fall, to get to know them more than just the brief visits I’ll pay to my friends here. I want to choose new classes, sit through hall choosing, and plan and re-plan what room I’ll get during room choosing. I want more than four falls and springs to learn new things, make new memories, spend time with my sisters.

I’ll miss driving around the valley, exploring for new and exciting places in my first car. I’ll miss walking outside my room during finals and seeing everyone looking like me, knowing I’m not the only one suffering. I’ll miss the safe and comfortable environment, being able to see so many familiar and friendly faces. I’ll even miss composting, local produce, and how green Mount Holyoke tries to be. I’ll miss big family style dinners, how everything always seems to revolve around food. I’ll miss the afterparties to Asian cultural events: nobody ever goes in, everyone stays outside eating their last meal swipe of the day. I’ll miss living with my besties, one down the hall and two upstairs. I’ll miss our campus, beautiful at any time of the day.

As I walk around campus, my mind is filled with thoughts of “this is the last ….”. When I first came to Mount Holyoke for camp, summers after 5th and 6th grade, I was incredibly sad to leave. At the time, I never thought I’d come back for a college education (although I wrote differently on my admissions essay). Now, knowing the campus even more, and having spent time in Mount Holyoke as a womens’ environment, leaving a second time is ever more bittersweet. This time, I know for sure that I will never return to attend this institution. These last days, I’ll treasure and savor the last moments marking the end of a lovely chapter in my life. I am, and have loved being: a Mount Holyoke woman.