My first week at Princeton was humid and hot. On Convocation day, 1400 of us sat under the shade of lush, green trees in front of Nassau Hall, buzzing with nerves and excitement along with the crickets chirping. An almost feverish energy hung in the air, as we erupted into applause after each speaker welcoming “the Great class of 2027.” I could not wait to begin this new chapter. With only Orientation events scheduled, I would stroll for hours around campus with my new friends, getting lost in the gothic architecture and enjoying the nice weather outside. Princeton felt so big then. as a brand new first-year.
After a few months, I gradually fell into a pattern for my first semester. New people, new classes, and new things to learn about every day transformed into a familiar routine. The changes in the season paralleled my sentiment: it started slowly, eventually increasing into a blur. As I walked along the pathway from East Pyne between classes, I suddenly noticed the green in the trees had faded into a brilliant gradient of the changing leaves, from tangerine orange to light hazel. The lawns were filled with readers lounging around, bathed in the warm sunlight as a slight breeze rustled the leaves. I was constantly reminding myself to slow down and look around at the beautiful scenery.
In the middle of December, darkness descended every day at 4 pm, draping the campus in a cold hush. Overwhelmed with exams and assignments, Firestone Library was littered with late-night goers and frantic typing of keyboards. One tiring night, I was trudging back from a study session when I noticed a flurry in the air. The next morning, the campus was covered with a fluffy snow blanket. Snowmen were scattered around campus, with one being taller than me! I could almost hear the Oppenheimer music playing when I walked under the East Pyne arch. Unfortunately, the snow day did not happen and classes went on as scheduled. Despite the cold, I felt strengthened by the beauty that continuously fell from the sky. Fortunately, I was surrounded by friends and even strangers who were all supportive of one another, serving as reminders that I was not alone even in moments of stress.
Last week, the persistent cold finally thawed, replaced by a gentle ray with 50-degree weather. Readers on the lawns returned, the sun lingered past 6 pm, and I took out my sundress. The new semester now felt more exhilarating than scary. I no longer felt as nervous when meeting new people. I walked into my new classes with a spring in my step. Familiar faces popped up and smiled around campus. I looked forward to the new possibilities that each week brought. I was metamorphizing, slowly but surely. I believe this cycle will never end during my time at Princeton. And like my anticipation of the changing seasons, I can’t wait.
