I’m sure I’m not alone when I say this, but I have never been one for change. Even as a kid I used to hate the idea that life never stays the same no matter how much you want it to. One way or another we move on to new things; new schools, new cities, new houses, and so on. I know that change is good, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t find it excruciatingly annoying at this moment in time.

As a wide-eyed freshman, I remember feeling that university would be infinite, and everything I saw in my first year here solidified this idea. Whether it was the waterfront, the campus, or even the lecture halls, it all seemed to fall in line with the idea of university that I had imagined for so many years. It seemed like everywhere I looked there was a new opportunity to take on, and in this new environment I felt something wonderful: that I was where I belong. And with this feeling, I began to grow in my new home for the next four years - until, of course, the world shut down.

Though my memories from the middle portion of my degree have blended into a seemingly endless cascade of Zoom socials, mental health walks, and socially distanced hangouts, I know that this time was not wasted. As I’m sure many can relate to, this period gave me a much-needed perspective on things. It helped me realize that I didn’t mind freezing my ass off on a walk in the middle of January if it meant I got to see the people I care about face-to-face. It also helped me master the art of telling people I wasn’t doing so well, something I hope we all got better at through the pandemic. And though they may have grown slower and in different ways than before, my roots continued to spread.

Then came the fourth year, and this so-called ‘university experience’ everyone kept raving about seemed to finally reveal itself. I met new people, rekindled old friendships, and finally got to see the inside of Stages again (still sticky). Everything seemed to be falling into place and I once again believed the idea that these were the best years of my life. Unfortunately, while I continued to thrive and grow in this time, a doomsday clock loomed overhead, slowly counting down the days until April 2023.

As someone belonging to this demographic of students who lost a sizeable chunk of their undergrad years to the pandemic, I know all too well the sad and sudden realization that university is not infinite in the way we initially thought. Sometimes when I think about it, it feels like I accidentally dosed off in first-year only to wake up two years down the road and be faced with every senior’s worst enemy - the “so, what's your plan?” conversation. To be quite frank, it sucks to have to leave before you’re ready. And it sucks feeling yanked out from where I was happy, as if I’m a tree in a storm - uprooted. As a result, our roots must now face the cold and harsh air above the surface, and endure this limbo until we can find somewhere else to keep growing.

Though my days are now numbered and I face the unfortunate reality of leaving this place, I still believe this is infinite, just in a different way than before. Rather than having no end, I feel that these four years have set me on a path of boundless new beginnings, where I can continue to grow infinitely despite these changes. While I cannot say that I enjoy being uprooted, I know that the roots I have grown here will continue to extend, just as the people I love, I will continue to love. The connections I have made in my time here are the reason I will be able to grow in my new home and though I will forever miss where I began, I am thankful for where it will take me.

Illustration by: Katelyn Zeng