30 Mar 2025
After I found out I was accepted at UMass Amherst, I promptly went to work and told my boss. I understood he was a graduate of UMass from some time ago, so I had been giving him continual updates on the status of my application. On hearing the news of my acceptance, he assured me that I should try and live in Southwest my freshman year. For me, getting into University was an accomplishment itself, so as a result, with the help of some laziness on my part, I took his recommendation at face value and set it as my primary choice for freshman year housing.
As luck would have it, I would receive a single in Southwest in Kennedy 0906 for my freshman year. I can still vividly remember everything about this living experience. I was on the 9th floor of one of the tall towers, a freshman-only building. It was the first one you'd see when you passed under the wide tunnel into Southwest. My floor was specifically reserved for boys, so it was often loud and rowdy as a result. My room was L-shaped and moderate in size. You'd wait for one of the elevators, take it up to the 9th floor and my room was the first on the right. It featured a large teal door with a silver doorknob that would occasionally stick. The door would lean open to reveal a brief section of my room that went straight before opening up and to the left. The floor was made from this crummy white tile that had always looked dirty. I am certain now that whoever did the work just waxed over the previous mess, leaving bits of dirt and dust caked into it as a result. To the left of the door, I had an open closet with three small drawers, and to the right, pushed against the far wall, was a large wooden desk with a shelf on top.
My favorite part of the room was the window, which spanned most of the wall opposite my bed. It held an amazing view of the whole campus, and in the mornings when people were just starting to get up, the sun would rise in through the window and the warm and yellow dawning streaks would rush to greet my face. As a result, I often woke up with the sun in the mornings, and while still in bed, I would hear the sounds of people below, their footsteps on the pavement, and their distant voices echoing through the wide tunnel and up into my window.
I can remember how hot it was the day I moved in, and how my fan would immediately stop working within a few days. I later found out that the capacitor had died, and without any money or knowledgeable way around town, I would have to swing open the cage and jump start the blades with a pencil just to get it spinning. Those first few weeks of the semester were unbearable, and all the days just seemed to stick and slide together. I would open the window on both sides in hopes that it would get cooler to no avail. I would just have to wait.
At night, I would lie awake to the sounds of my floormates partying or running down the hall. It didn't matter what day it was to them, to me it seemed that every day could hold a party. I could hear their muffled voices through the wall or open window and I would string together words and pieces to make an incomplete picture of what they could be doing. What were they like? It seemed almost alien to me. Although we were all underage, drinking came often and in the form of a mess. Vomit could be found anywhere, the sinks, the toilets, the trash cans or even the floor. The showers were always loud, no matter the hour. Speakers would be blaring, sending sound bouncing all over the walls of the restroom and out into the hall.
Before I knew it, the Summer heat had vanished and the once long days seemed to drag shorter. I had become more accustomed to living at UMass, and despite the subtle changes, I found that my dorm mostly stayed the same. I would still wake in the mornings, and hear the busy street below, but now the air that rose to greet me was different. It felt more whole, more peaceful. Perhaps it was because finals were fast approaching, and the rest of campus had followed suit in growing accustomed to things, but there was a quieter sense of comfort than before. Of course, my floormates still had parties, and disruptions were still frequent, but I found them to bother me less.
My desk which once stood empty, now had books and papers lining the drawers. I now had a rug, a kettle, a fridge, but most of all, I had established a place I could call my own. I had a place where I could retreat for any reason, a place where I could pick up work, a place I could relax or study. I could do it all. I would often come back to my dorm and work on homework until I wanted to do something else. The dining hall was so close that on a good day I could practically roll out of bed and land on it – and throughout this all, I still kept my window open. I noticed how the trees began to turn gold and orange, and how people had begun to bundle up. They walked in pairs out towards the tunnel, and the parking lot in front of my building had begun to decorate with spots of brown and red and yellow. The trees rustled and shook happily with the wind and the Summer sun sighed.
Now over a year later, the view from my window has changed again. Instead of facing towards campus, I face the corner of a small forest. In front of the trees of the forest runs a short paved path, and from left to right, people will sometimes cross out over the wide ground in front of my window on their various tasks. The sun won't shine in through the window anymore. No longer does it spread out over my room and up into my bed, but instead, I get a slanted semblance of what it once was. My room is on the second floor, and instead of an elevator I take the stairs up.
I live with three roommates now and instead of playing guesswork at what they could be doing, I know them all well. Although I don't share a room with any of them, we all share an apartment together. Having shared spaces comes with new challenges, but I wouldn't trade it for anything else. I feel it's just another step forward towards figuring out what I want next.