Even as a self-professed adversary of New England winters, I felt a slight existential pang of shock when our outdoor thermostat hit 65 degrees. While nothing can dethaw my college decision stress like a warm breeze in the middle of February, something seemed off. As I went for a walk down my street in a short-sleeved T-shirt, a sense of guilt loomed over my attempt to partake in the comfortable weather.

Was it my knowledge that the uncharacteristically warm weather we all enjoy so much can contribute to the degradation of our ozone layer, leading to the permanent alteration of our climate, melting our polar ice caps and degrading our environment due to unfettered human activity? I’m sure that was part of it. But something else that I couldn’t quite put my finger on still actively weighed on my conscience.

As I strolled down the street, my mind began to wander to the long laundry list of obligations unique to seniors that I had to meet in the near future: ordering my cap and gown for graduation, filling out senior superlatives, securing an internship, finding motivation to complete my work, padding my bank account with extra work hours, and generally stressing out about college decisions. It hadn’t occurred to me until that moment, prompted by the gaze of the warm afternoon sun, that all of this would be over soon, my time as a student at Wilton High School nearing the end.

I have never enjoyed the spring. The border between itself and winter is muddled, the unforgiving nature of the cold edging its way further into the year, marked by April snow showers and an absence of foliage until mid-May. The true stereotypical depiction of spring, cool, sunny days with light breezes and moderate temperatures, is not a full season; before you’re able to exclaim “Spring is here!” with relief, it’s 90 degrees out. Looking out at the brown canopy of trees surrounding Cranbury Park, I realized that senior year is spring — it’s fleeting, maddening, and everyone is absolutely obsessed with it. I immediately had a déjà vu moment, my mind flashing back to this time last year when my friends were gearing up for the end of their high school careers, all wondering the same thing: where had all the time gone? This year, I’ll try to pay closer attention to the idiosyncrasies of change because before I know it, it’ll be summer.


Skyler Addison is a senior at Wilton High School. She shares this column with four classmates.