Strolling through Harvard's campus once inspired in me a deep sense of awe at the sheer beauty and history of both the university and the city of Cambridge. Now, as I commute to classes and meetings, I notice something different. 

I find beauty in my own personal history here. In the cherished memories of making lifelong friends, exploring new paths, and growing as a person. 

One day, I was a high school dreamer, and the next, a student at one of the world's most rigorous and prestigious institutions. I expected it to redefine everything immediately, but the change was more subtle. I didn't transform into a "Harvard man" overnight; nothing felt fundamentally different the morning after my acceptance or on the first day of class. In fact, looking back one or two years, it's hard to isolate a single turning point, yet I know I am completely changed. 

What I am certain of is the journey itself; the experiences I've gathered, the people I've encountered, and the deep reflection I've done along the way. In moments like this, I am drawn to the riverbank, where I am sitting now upon the John W. Weeks Bridge with my feet dangling above the Charles, looking down upon my actual reflection in the water. And though this bridge is my place for looking back, this campus itself is filled with vivid memories I see on my daily commute. 

The first place that comes to mind is the courtyard of the Harvard Kennedy School. It was a beautiful day in late April during my Visitas visit when a group of us prospective students arrived in Cambridge early and organized a pizza party stocked by Pinocchio's. That very afternoon, I met three people who would become my closest friends and, eight months later, my blockmates. Though I rarely have a reason to step back into that courtyard, I can never walk past it without visualizing the vibrant crowd, the empty pizza boxes, and my best friends. 

Yet, that Visitas weekend held an even deeper impact. The following evening, those same new friends and I headed to the newly renovated Adams Pool Room for my first-ever silent disco. It was loud, chaotic, and incredibly hot. But despite the sweat and losing our voices, we yelled all night without a care in the world. Surrounded by strangers, I suddenly felt a profound sense of confidence in myself and my path, knowing with absolute certainty that this was exactly where I belonged. Since that night, no matter how many people are or aren't in that room, it always feels full of life to me. 

On a campus this large, it's easy to feel that you’ll never see everything it has to offer. I remember my very first week during the FYRE Pre-Orientation Program, when we gathered at the Agassiz Theatre for "Harvard I Messed Up," an event where upperclassmen shared all the crazy, laughable, and cautionary tales of mistakes they've made here. I hadn't given that night much thought until this summer. Now, working as an Ambassador for the college, my job brings me back to that exact stage every single morning to share my Harvard journey with visiting families from around the world. It feels like a full circle—returning to the space where I once felt so anxious, alone, and intimidated, but standing there now as a confident, proud, and changed person. 

As the evening settles in, I have to close my laptop and come back to the present. There are many more stories to tell, but as my feet finally touch the ground, I know there are also more memories to be made.