I guess all seasons mark change in some way. But perhaps it’s because the leaves change color or because I just love this season so that for some reason it, more than any other one, seems to mark change most for me. I feel these days like I’m trying to put all my ducks in a row – except those ducks are plastic duckies that I try and put in place – and make stay in place – before they float off in different directions leaving me scrambling to shepherd them back. Alright, vivid metaphor. But do you get me? Things are all. over. the. place. Not to mention, this fall will likely be my last in Cambridge which comes with a whole lot of nostalgia and a rather pressing need to really soak it all in. I feel myself moving faster and faster, my feet adjusting to the Harvard rhythm of things far beter than my mind is. But before I get caught up to where my feet want to go, I thought I’d try and tell the story of all that this summer was and meant to me first. Here goes.

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