Hanover winter elicits a strange combination of feelings for me. As someone didn’t participate in winter sports growing up, Dartmouth in winter often feels like a playground. On any given day in the term, skiing, skating, sledding and more are at any student’s fingertips — so long as one is not drowning in assignments, social engagements and whatever else makes each week feel like a sprint.
This winter has yet to show me what kind of term it will be. In past winters, I’ve spent cozy afternoons in the ceramics studio and relaxed on Sundays at the slopes on the Skiway; I’m also intimately familiar with trudging to the library in total darkness at 5 p.m. Arriving on campus last week, I took the Christmas tree still glittering on the Green as a good omen. This winter, whether packed with highs or lows, will probably be threaded with a manic kind of joy — mostly related to the fact that I’ll be moving a tassel from right to left in a little under six months.
Even as I attempt to situate myself in this term and figure out how it might compare to others — if I can afford to spend fewer nights falling asleep in front of my laptop and more time playing card games with friends on their apartment floors — the biggest impression I’ve had so far is that this term feels like the beginning of the end. Usually, I despise endings. I’m notorious for restarting my favorite shows before their finales to avoid that twinge of bittersweetness that comes with the credits of the last episode. But this time, starting FDOC at a too-small table in Foco, laughing with all my friends feels right. The past 10 terms have changed me in ways that have inspired extensive journal entries. I won’t wax poetic about them now, but I can say that the feeling of change is a welcome one. I have no idea what this phase of my life will look like in retrospect, but each chapter I’ve had at Dartmouth has only excited me for everything to come.
If you know me, you might know that my Week 1 was miserable. Over the holidays, I lost my grandmother. Grief was a new kind of pain, a years-long episode of dread for an inevitable departure out of anyone’s control. I left campus last Friday, and have only just come back from a funeral I was strangely unprepared to attend. But being surrounded for a weekend by family members and friends that I’ve only seen in short stints since I started college was an indescribable comfort. In the same way, returning to campus — twice in one week — felt like coming home.
As someone who studies English, writing more pages than there are days in a term, I rarely find myself at a loss for words. This is the best I’ve got: This winter feels like a blinking cursor. Full of promise, so long as we devote time and care to the things we love. Being enveloped by campus, seeing nothing but friendly faces in one of the coldest places in the Northeast, is exactly where I want to be.
This week, our writers muse about their passions and pastimes on campus. Two writers return for their cooking column, sharing a recipe that is sure to warm anyone up in the throes of winter. Another writer recaps a fond Dartmouth tradition — the snowball fight — talking to students about their favorite activities on the green after Baker Tower strikes midnight. One student delves into winterim as a welcome respite for those who choose to remain on campus. Finally, two writers return for their column, Freak of the Week, to weigh in on rekindling romantic relationships.
Happy Week 2, Mirror! This winter, I hope you feel the clarity that comes with a breath of brisk air.
