The proverbial gap year is supposed to be a time of grand adventures, growth and reflection. Due to the pandemic, I was cornered into a second year off, and I have to say that my times away from Yale, in both instances, have been neither adventurous nor glamorous. My first gap year was traumatic and I spent a large portion of the time counting down the days until Camp Yale. Then finally, just as Yale began to feel like home, it was ripped from our grasp by the pandemic. 

Marina Keegan YC’12, whose words brought comfort to all Yalies during this past year, wrote that being a part of the Yale community is truly “The Opposite of Loneliness.” Leaving Yale without saying goodbye to my freshman dorm, my favorite library and, most importantly, my newfound family was upsetting. Even more so, it was terrifying. The see-you-soons began to feel like false promises. I found myself petrified that everyone would simply move on with their lives without me. This isn’t even because I view myself as the center of the universe — which I most certainly do — it is mainly a deep-seeded fear that time apart with no end in sight would tear the tethers to my newfound home. 

I was proven, as I often am, so deeply and irrevocably wrong. I have been sent birthday flowers, sorry-you-have-an-eating-disorder-lol flowers and just plain old I miss you flowers. Even when we aren’t tied together by location, being a part of the Yale community truly is the opposite of loneliness. 

During my first gap year, I spent a lot of time alone, but not nearly enough to prepare me for the extreme loneliness and isolation during the pandemic. Despite being separated by time zones and countries and oceans and plane rides, I feel more connected to a community than ever before. The pain and loss we have all experienced during the past 14 months is immeasurable. But we are all tied together by our collective loss of  Donut Crazy Tater Tots, Woads-induced mistakes, and the first breath of fresh air after exiting Bass. 

I know that I am romanticizing the unbelievably short period of time in which I got to experience Yale and all of its beauty. I find myself clinging to the now murky sense of pure happiness I experienced my first year. BUT, I have proof that Yale’s intangible spirit comes from our ridiculously pretentious and over-ambitious community. Most of us are smart, and most of us are interesting, but the overarching theme I have found in Yale students is everyone’s capacity to be NICE. This isn’t to say that I don’t find some of you to be insufferable assholes — I most certainly do. But I can’t think of a single person on campus who would say no to helping any other Yalie in a moment of crisis. If you need us, we are there. We have been there for each other in grieving the loss of life, the loss of opportunities, the loss of so many things that could have been. THAT is the Yale that I know and love, that is the Yale that I am still counting down the days to return to. It’s an intangible quality that just so happens to manifest in 6,092 people on a campus in New Haven.