There’s an invincibility unique to freshman year—an unshakeable belief that time might just stop moving for you, that maybe this period of your life could stretch on forever. After all, four years sounds pretty distant when you’re standing at the very start.
I remember my freshman year, reading sappy columns written by seniors about saying goodbye and experiencing “lasts,” all advising me to make the most of my time in college before it slips away. Maybe it was naivety, but in that moment, senior year felt like another lifetime, one so far out of reach it might never come.
But here I am. My final semester is so close—the semester I once thought would never arrive. Four years disappeared in the blink of an eye, and suddenly, I’m the one experiencing my “lasts” at Boston College. My last time tailgating in the Mods, my last time battling it out during class registration, and my last time walking across the Quad as the leaves paint campus in shades of maroon.
With the end of fall semester just weeks away, and the winding pathway to graduation shortening each day, I’ve found myself more reflective than ever. Have I made the most of my time here? And more importantly, how do I make the most of the time I have left?
No matter how hard I try to deny it, I know nothing will be the same after graduation. The people I’ve grown up with over the past four years will scatter across the country. My roommates will become friends I visit on the weekends, no longer an arm’s length away. The insular “BC bubble,” largely comforting and occasionally claustrophobic, will finally pop.
If there’s one thing I’ve taken for granted during my time here, it’s the gift of proximity. Hearing friends talk about their job offers in New York and graduate programs across the country has quickly opened my eyes to the harsh reality of the future. At no other point in my life will I ever live this close to so many people I care about.
It’s more important than ever to be intentional with my time. At BC, it’s so easy to go days—even weeks—without seeing friends whose circles might not overlap with my own. Amid our busy schedules and shaky attempts to sort out our futures, I think we’ve all been guilty of this.
I don’t want to realize too late that I should have appreciated this luxury of proximity. Though it will probably pass in the blink of an eye, there’s still so much time left to spend with the people who have touched my life in one way or another.
When I look back at the past three and a half years of my life, it’s hard not to get tangled in a suffocating web of “what ifs.
Where would I be if I hadn’t been so caught up in what other people thought of me freshman year? What if I’d joined that club or taken that class out of my comfort zone? And how would my life be different if I’d reached out to that friend from class or gotten the nerve to talk to that guy at the bus stop?
As much as I wish I could go back and tell my 19-year-old self to embrace the journey with more confidence and less fear, I can’t rewind the clock.
The pressure of time—especially as it rapidly slips away—has a unique effect on us. We’ve all left the final draft of an essay until the last moment or crammed for an exam the night before. But in those final hours, with deadlines pushing us to be as efficient as possible, we often accomplish more than we thought possible.
So, as the clock winds down on your year at BC, whether it be your first or your last, let that time pressure be a motivator, not a source of fear. If you only have a few months left, why let fear stop you from creating the college experience you’ve always dreamed of? Tie up the storylines still left open—you never know where they might lead.
Take the art class you’ve been worried you might not have the skills for. Reach out to that friend you wish you saw more often. And maybe, just maybe, use graduation’s rapid approach as a reason to finally talk to that person you’ve only ever watched longingly from across the room. Don’t let yourself walk across that stage at graduation with any lingering regrets.
It feels so full circle to be sitting in the living room of my senior dorm, typing up a column inspired by the ones I read three years ago. Never in a million years did I ever think my time would come to send out these words of warning instead of brushing them aside.
Maybe, somewhere on this campus, a freshman will read this column and wonder whether my warnings about the rapid passage of time have any truth. And maybe, when their senior year finally arrives, they’ll pass on the same advice that has echoed on college campuses for an eternity.
Though the time goes by in the blink of an eye, there is always some left. That bit of time remaining—no matter how short or unassuming—is enough to make the memories that will last us a lifetime.