Dear Sun,
Well, well, well. Here we are again, on the fourth and final edition of my annual love letter to you. My dear Sun, where did all the time go? Do you remember who I was four years ago, when I wrote you my first letter? That version of me lives so far in the past now that I’m not even sure if I do.
What I can remember now is a faint echo of the curiosity and excitement that I had in my first year here. I remember the magic of my first spring, watching the world buzz back to life after the long hibernation of winter. I remember the surge of energy that you brought with you, the way people spilled out onto the Green like flowers opening toward the light, a chorus of smiles and chatter and laughter. Smiles, laughter, chatter — a whole campus was suddenly awake again. I had never been more in love with Dartmouth than in that moment. It felt like a scene out of a classic American coming-of-age movie, optimism and possibility crackling in the air. Maybe, I thought, these would be the best four years of my life.
But, my dear Sun, I don’t think they were. Maybe you’ll agree. You’ve watched as I wrestled with the relentless pace of change on this campus during my first year, and as I yearned for stability in my first introduction to the pain that accompanies love in my second. Most recently, you’ve helped me feel less alone as I grew to understand that the idea of home would never feel the same again.
In those moments of great inconsistency, I’ve had to remind myself that it was change that led me here — to this life that I am so scared will change again. I read over my Love Letter to the Sun from freshman year to remind myself that change is not necessarily negative. It has brought me to this place that I love, surrounded by those that I love even more. Sun, do you remember the wonder and novelty of my first spring on campus? Do you remember the joy?
So no, these haven’t been the best four years of my life — and I am no longer the same girl that I was when I first sat down to write you this letter. But I feel better for it. I am so grateful for the time I have spent at Dartmouth, for the wonderful people I have met, for the small part that I have played in the College’s long, storied history. What a gift it’s been, to grow and learn alongside so many amazing people. Thank you for all of the good moments that you’ve presided over, dear Sun, and for all of the bad ones too. I wouldn’t be who I am today without them.
I started this year with lots of preemptive nostalgia for my last year at Dartmouth. Unlike my first spring, this one felt finite. There were only so many more days left to live the life I had so carefully built during the past three years. As much as I hope to linger under the Hanover sun for longer, I know that the end is rapidly approaching. With each year, I’ve recognized less people around campus. I’ve found myself randomly giving unsolicited advice to freshmen in the library. I’ve gone on a walk around Occom for the hundredth time, and I’ve played pong for the thousandth. My time here is coming to a close, and perhaps that is for the best.
I read something in the library today that said, “Love Dartmouth and it will love you back.” It’s true. Lean into Dartmouth in every way that you can. The worst that will happen is that you’ll learn something new. The best is that you’ll gain a collection of memories that make saying goodbye even more difficult.
I love Dartmouth, and I am grateful that it has loved me back. And, of course, I’ve loved you my dear Sun. I hope that you will love me back wherever life takes me next.
With love,
SH ’25
