Summer reflections

I’ve never seen leaves change colour. That was my first thought as I ambled along the pavement in downtown Toronto. It may be a strange thought, but I reveled in it for that brief moment. I would have something to look forward to as the summer sun faded away and winter came along. The changing leaves were but one of many transitions I was looking forward to.

To many, my last summer before starting university might be discarded as eventless. However, I found solace in what may seem like the smallest of things: moments spent with family, enjoying nature, having time to myself, and reconnecting with old friends while striking up new friendships. The summer was a taste of normality in a time when our concept of normalcy was, and still is, warped. The past four months provided a touch of familiarity where things were about to become very unfamiliar. 

I came to Toronto in August with my parents. After years living abroad in the Middle East (in the United Arab Emirates and Qatar) as a Canadian citizen, I was finally back where I was born, and I was beyond thrilled. As an expatriate studying in an international British-curriculum school, the diversity in the community I lived in was commonplace, and growing up there made me accustomed to having friends from vastly different cultural backgrounds. While the concept of multiculturalism is not new to me, the concept of having four seasons is—I’ve only experienced arid summers and half-hearted winters in the Middle East. Nevertheless, I was ecstatic to meet my extended family, eat delicious home-cooked traditional food that I haven’t had the chance to enjoy in a long time, and laugh at inside jokes together. Coming back home meant that I would get a chance to reconnect with my culture. But after observing the community around me, I realized there’s still so much I don’t know about culture and tradition beyond my intermediate family. I am Tamil by ethnicity and can speak Tamil, but not brilliantly. I’m still mildly embarrassed when asked to have a conversation in Tamil about what I’ve planned out for my future with people who may or may not have held me as a baby at family functions—from family friends’ kids’ birthdays to wedding receptions. With the rather small Tamil community that exists in the Middle East, the sudden escalation in people who I am inevitably connected to is overwhelming. I’m not sure if reconnecting with my family excites me with the prospect of discovery or fills me with dread. I’m not sure where I belong. 

In addition to family, friendships have always been something I’ve cherished. The pandemic has made friendships even more important in my eyes, regardless of how difficult it was to form or maintain them. Zoom meetings will never have the same feel as sharing fries or nudging each other in the cinema at parts of a movie we find funny. My friends and I had hoped that high school graduation would let us be together again in person; it didn’t. We had to make do with speeches along the lines of, “In these unprecedented times…” Yet times continue to be unprecedented and exceedingly difficult given the curse of time zones—I am now 12 hours behind some of my friends studying in various parts of the world, including Southeast Asia and the Middle East. Texting won’t be the same now that those punny memes that they need to see right now will be left unseen for half a day. 

While I still hold on to the imperfect, but dear, remnants of friendships built over time, I’ve taken pleasure in creating new ones over the summer that will hopefully last as I navigate new terrain. Of course, in the midst of the pandemic, much of those friendships were initiated online. So, you can imagine my shock when I realized that the person I’ve been conversing with via Instagram and the Faculty of Arts and Science’s Arrive Ready Program on my little laptop screen is really, REALLY tall. Beyond that, however, socialization in a complicated landscape has led me to understand that people aren’t out to get you in university. Some of the most understanding people can be met in the most unexpected places, while bonding over shared experiences. 

Some of my most eventful memories of the summer were made possible because new friends I had met said they wanted to hang out. We walked around in the sun, complaining about being sweaty and tired, but chatted as if we had known each other for ages. Our adventures involved sorority members trying to convince us to join them (I still have their contact card to convince myself and others that it was real), trying to open the doors of lecture buildings on a Sunday (“Maybe they’re not locked?”) and walking through Queen’s Park while contemplating how bad it really is to cross the park at night (don’t worry, I’ll steer clear of it).

This seemingly ordinary summer gave me the chance to introspect and realize who I am and how I function as an individual and in society. Even though I told myself I wasn’t scared of standing out or pursuing my ambitions, I was. I was scared of not having the time to pursue my passions, such as trying out for leadership positions or dipping my toes into activism. I was scared that I’d be judged for “trying too hard,” and I was scared of letting people down by taking on too much. Realistically, the only person I was letting down with all these thoughts was myself. This summer—and the people I met during it—made me understand that I need to slow down and take my time in establishing meaningful connections rather than making assumptions about others and worrying what they think without knowing their true thoughts. Standing out and doing something even a little bit differently gives you the chance to grow, and to appreciate growth around you. This year, I plan to do exactly that, by reaching my goals one step at a time and exploring everything I’m interested in without regret, as well as taking the time to talk with the people that can help me get there. To everyone starting or going back to school this fall, here’s to a great year—one that is hopefully full of growth and change.