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Senior Reflection: Time is almost up
By Mira Khanna ’15
March 6, 2015
As graduation looms ever closer, I find myself seized by a sudden urge to speak up. I am calm yet frantic, trying to taste every new student experience before the death of my college self. I do not intend to be dramatic, and do not consider this morbid in the slightest—after all, as the Egyptian priest Imhotep scratched onto his sarcophagus in the 1999 film The Mummy, “Death is only the beginning.” I am simply well aware that my time as a Hamilton student will soon come to an end. The heavy toll of the chapel bell confirms this knowledge, catapulting it to the forefront of my mind. Time is almost up.
The moments I spend here are precious. Their transience compels me to act—I want to have fun and connect with those around me. I want to continue immersing myself in everything that, even after four years, I still find so fascinating and exciting. And, every day, I want to relish the fact that some of my primary tasks here include reading and absorbing and thinking and talking and letting words drip from my mind onto pages.
What a wonderful time college is! The people I’ve met here—friends, professors, coaches—have supported and pushed me with passion and compassion. I’d like to express my gratitude to these people, these opportunities, these experiences.
I’m floating in this beautiful mess of desire, of urgency. I’m seized by an intensity and fervor that both anchors me and propels me forward. Locations swirl in my mind—KJ; the Field House; the co-op kitchen; the glen. Places where I spent late nights and fought fierce battles. Places where anxieties washed away and I could simply just be.
Although I have not regretted my time here, nostalgia still greets me with a glint of bared teeth. I remember my first year on the hill. Before arriving, I had no idea of what college would actually be like—I had never really thought about how significant a transition it really is. I remember initial disappointment; how cold it was, how lonely, how isolating, how confusing. How strange it felt to be so far from home, so far from everyone I loved and cared for.
Adjusting to the sheer newness of it all took some time. But, eventually, the process of uncovering what I truly care about (at the present moment, at least) made everything else simply seem to fade away into the background. For fellow classmates who have had similar experiences on this campus,
I suppose I am suggesting that perhaps time has the ability to compress memories. Perhaps, if we choose, we can turn coal into diamonds. While I do not want to forget my initial discomfort here, I do want to be able to look back upon it fondly, as a necessary and critical step shoving me through a threshold of change.
After all, the final bell approaches. My feelings towards the future oscillate between fear, excitement and above all, a burning curiosity. I have grown comfortable here, which means it’s almost time to leave. The opportunities and experiences we leave behind as students at Hamilton will be replaced by new opportunities and experiences created from having been students at Hamilton. For that, we are extraordinarily lucky.
And as graduation looms ever closer, I’m filled with an upsurge of almost demented giddiness and partial paralysis. What is really next is unknown, and it is thrilling.