Today I stepped outside just to run across the street to get a coffee and had no idea that it was a whopping 56 degrees out. As the sun hit my face and I stripped away my jacket, a literal tear sprang to my eye -- not only have I been desperate for warm weather and a cool breeze, but I also felt that feeling in the pit of my stomach, that first inkling of the end-of-the-semester buzz from undergrad. The feeling of premature fomo -- that if I go to class, I'll miss out on these moments in the sunshine with my friends, the last ones before we part for the summer. It made me miss blowing off my responsibilities and sitting in the Boston Common with iced coffees and a joint, shivering because it's still a bit too cold, but not caring because the Vitamin D was just so damn delicious and the time together was too precious. I love New York and I love being done with undergrad, but every so often I get a pang of longing for that time. Today I sat by myself in the park and soaked it up, for once comforted by the fact that I'm not going anywhere, and that it will only get warmer and sunnier from here.