Entering this 2020-2021 school year as seniors, we couldn’t fight the thought that our best Yale days were over. With classes and extracurriculars on Zoom, sports seasons cancelled, traditions lost and dining halls clad in plexiglass, we were about to enter a black and white, standard definition version of the HD technicolor Yale we knew best.
Even so, us three friends stayed enrolled and took root at a little apartment on Lake Place, now fondly known as “home.” We reunited last August with long-awaited hugs and courageous smiles, masking the fear that we had a really dark year ahead of us. Whether or not we vocalized it, we knew we had two options for our final semesters: harp on everything we had lost, or make the most of what we still had.
In many heartfelt yet imperfect ways, we opted for the latter. Did we complain throughout the year over our losses? Definitely. Was every day a good one? Absolutely not. But even on the worst days — like signature New Haven sludgy sleet bad — we still learned to find the light.
A guaranteed bout of sunshine always came around dinner time after our daily commute from our bedrooms to the kitchen table. It became a tradition to ask “what was one good thing that happened to you today?” It wasn’t uncommon for one of us to dejectedly respond, “Ah, nothing good happened today,” only to be quickly followed up by a “ohhh c’mon there had to have been something good!” Even if it took some prodding, and a generous interpretation of the word “good,” there was indeed always something. Sometimes, that something looked like making a great sandwich for lunch. Or finding a new bench to sit on, like the one behind the economics building on Hillhouse.
In essence, we’ve learned to become intentional about the little things — to live in the present moment, and dive in headfirst no matter what we’re doing. One morning, that looked like taking a drive to West Rock to catch the sunrise. On lazier days, we’d sip coffee and procrastinate over New York Times crossword puzzles, with bragging rights going to whoever finished first. Our birthdays became national holidays as we planned for them months in advance and stayed up late to decorate the apartment with an obnoxious amount of confetti. And throughout this whole year, after many mundane glances out the window, we have witnessed the tree outside our apartment change colors, lose its leaves, bloom and then finally turn green again — just like our lives hopefully will too.
We’d like to acknowledge that, despite all these bright spots getting us through most of our days, we’ve still had meltdowns. Meltdowns to zoom fatigue, to missing our in-person events, to being contact traced multiple times, to the ending of “The Last Song.”
But more than that, we realize that these past fourteen months have been dark because of real, tremendous loss — loss of lives, jobs and so many comforts from our pre-COVID-19 “normal.” We’ve witnessed fear and anxiety take root where joy used to abound, and sadness riddle relationships that were now confined to screens. We’ve lost the friendly smiles, waves and surprise run-ins on our way to class. We’ve missed the opportunity for chance encounters that could have turned into best friends, mentors or significant others.
Even so, we don’t count it all for loss when we’ve learned so much about who we are and what we value. As we enter a new stage of life, bound for even more mundane days — working, commuting, cooking, sleeping, repeat — we now know we can always find joy in the ordinary: a skill no class at Yale could have taught us. It doesn’t take grand gestures to make these days memorable — here’s to enjoying the many more “little things” ahead.
Emma Osborne is a graduating senior in Benjamin Franklin College. Contact her at emma.osborne@yale.edu. Colleen Huffman is a graduating senior in Morse College. Contact her at colleen.huffman@yale.edu. Hannah Manz is a graduating senior in Trumbull College. Contact her at hannah.manz@yale.edu.