It was feeling a surge of anticipation for the spring semester as I drove down to Durham, thinking of all the new faces I’d meet on a doubly populated campus.

It was moving back into my dorm room and finding my bed and posters just as I had left them in November. 

It was perching on my dorm bench with friends, eating dinner from takeout boxes under glittering stars, shivering slightly from the January cold.

It was glancing at my clock that read 10:16 a.m., hissing “ah, sh*t” to myself as I scrambled to Zoom into a class that had started at 10:15.

It was getting tested for COVID-19 twice a week, fighting the tickling sensation of the swab and always giving up to sneeze twice.

It was sinking into my chair on Friday nights to enjoy a weekly WandaVision episode, only to be left on a cliffhanger every time.

It was discovering with a thrill that one of my stories made the front page of the school newspaper for the first time.

It was creating a dumpling assembly line on Chinese New Year, rolling out the dough and pinching in the filling, pan searing each one, and then quickly shoving them into our mouths while they were still steaming hot so the RA wouldn’t catch us.

It was running on fumes by the Friday of midterm week and celebrating the end of it by sitting in lawn chairs eating chocolate and vanilla bean ice cream.

It was feeling like my brain was going to implode during the weeklong stay-in-place, and then feeling a great sense of liberty when the order lifted.

It was getting jabbed in the forearm with the COVID-19 vaccine and feeling as if my entire existence had culminated to this one rite of passage.

It was seeing spring gradually emerge on campus with pale pink cherry blossoms and purple white tulips.

It was noticing more students playing spikeball and frisbee in the warmer weather, and thinking to myself that this was what a normal college scene must look like.

It was feeling like my eyes were being stabbed by pollen every time I stepped outside for more than five minutes.

It was no longer eating outside with friends under glittering stars, but under a setting sun that bathed everything in warm gold.

It was hearing dazzling piano chords and crisp violin runs at live recitals and feeling so awestruck by the amount of talent I was surrounded with.

It was celebrating the last day of classes by snapping too many pictures by the balloon display and recording silly videos with friends, all the while marvelling how we made it to this day.

It was seriously underestimating the amount of work I had during finals week and picking off the mountain of tasks one by one, day by day.

It was watching The Martian with my friends after my last final, my brain a puddle of mush but feeling at last so relieved and so free.

It was seeing graduates dressed in black caps and gowns the next day and feeling a sense of deja vu because I had just graduated less than a year earlier.

It was peeling the posters off my dorm wall and putting my entire freshman year into boxes to store and take home.

It was closing my dorm room door for the last time and realizing my freshman year has come and gone and now consists only of memories.