Amelia Shaw

When we come to Yale in the fall, there is an inexplicable void of emptiness that sits in our chests. Whether this be our yearning for summer to return or our longing for our family back home, it is our duty to fill these voids. As Yale students, we make no delay in ridding ourselves of this empty feeling. We come to campus and pull ourselves around tiny circles that keep us company. We come to campus and find homes in random places: a capella groups, sports teams, cooking clubs. 

But there’s someplace else where I find fulfillment, someplace special that I call my home. 

The common room of suite A42.

At this huge school that elicits loneliness, I feel a longing fulfilled in the 20 square meters of my common room. A loneliness rectified. In the crevices of the plush loveseats, and the ceilings adorned with fairy lights, I find serenity. This is an ode to all common rooms.

From the coffee mug stains on the table, to the decorative pillows on the couch, I find no greater joy than in simply sitting. When my eyelids grow heavy as I sit reading beside my best friend, there is no place I’d rather be. As I leave my suite in a hurry to class, the scattered shoes by the doorway subtly remind me “you are not alone.” 

There’s something ironic about how our common room, the room outside of my private place, is the space I feel most at home. With its ornate fireplace that houses our contraband candles, the common room is where both people and things seek refuge. When my roommate returns home, drunk off the stress of Intermediate Macroeconomics, the ottoman welcomes her with open arms. When the men of New Haven — time and time again — break our hearts, our common room becomes our safe haven. As my suitemates rush home, their stories are welcomed by my eager ears and the walls of our common room.

And slowly, the emptiness that weighed down on my chest grows lighter. With every hoodie left on the coffee table, and every poster barely stuck to the wall, signs of life and love in my common room fill my void. 

Now I’m well aware that not everyone has such affections for their shared spaces. But in this ode, I hope that everyone reading has filled their void with something special. With something as warm and inviting as the common room of A42. 

When we come to Yale in the fall, we pull ourselves around tiny circles that keep us company. Whether these be people, groups or places, I hope we all find family in these circles that we call home. This is not just an ode to my common room, but to whatever tiny circle your common room may be.