When I come back for spring quarter, I’ll be back in a place that no longer recognizes me, and, afterward, a place will never see the same version of me again.
Note: The author wrote this piece before the start of spring quarter in celebration of their first full year; the current spring quarter is alluded to in future tense. The only thing that has stayed the same in the past year has been the echo of a train whistle ringing in the distance. Strangely, it’s comforting. It’s as comforting as the fleece blankets on my bed at Stanford and the one in my...
