The sun came out for seemingly the first time all semester last week. Last week. It’s April 23 today, and the first time I reached into my drawer of tank tops in my closet was last week (can you tell I’m a California girl?).
We’ve braved a rainy, windy, puffer jacket-filled spring here in Berkeley. And the consequences have extended far beyond a dent in my wallet from extra spending on a winter wardrobe and a ruined pair of rain-soaked tennis shoes. An unintended consequence of mother nature’s overstayed winter weather was that I truly forgot it was spring. In my mind, the past few months have just been one long January.
It wasn’t until I reached into both my tank top drawer and my pile of shorts (thank goodness we’re back in the 70s) this past week that I realized it was spring again, with summer just around the corner. And if you’re anything like me, the arrival of a new season is a catalyst for reflection – sifting through my camera roll from April last year, thinking about the people that have gone and stayed, and of course, regretting participating in last year’s fashion trends.
This particular turn of seasons has come with a lot of change – new faces, chopped hair, and a switched major. While I can look back on periods of change and often appreciate the growth they brought me, living through change can be hard. It feels uncertain, uncomfortable, and unfamiliar. And for someone who grew up in the same house all my life, has had the same restaurant order for the past decade, and is still best friends with the girl who she met on the playground in fourth grade, change is new to me.
Last November, when the trees on Sproul went from orange to bare, it frightened me to think about the people I had lost and the new career ambitions I had. I missed the stability and familiarity of my “old life.” I missed the clothes I used to fit into, the classes I aced with ease, and the people I no longer saw. I missed the sureness of my old life – I was sure of my postgraduate ambitions, sure of the person I wanted to be, and sure of the people I wanted to have.
But in the past few months, I’ve realized that nothing is sure in this life – a reality I can now confidently say I’m grateful for. There’s a freeing beauty in the endless possibilities that life has to offer. I’ve grown to enjoy the uncertainty of trying out a new coffee shop or taking a class in a subject I’m not confident in. While these changes seem small, little by little, they push me to expand my understanding of myself and the world around me.
So, in a couple of months when Berkeley will reach temperatures in the 100s and summer will take full form, I encourage you to reflect, not just on the milestones you reached or the losses you survived, but also on the smaller, mundane moments of your everyday life. In the midst of changed coffee orders and a new favorite podcast, you’ve gained new life lessons, fresh perspectives, and an overall better you.