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Goodbyes. Hugs. Last meals with friends. Last Annenberg food. Packing. Making the most of the last days.

No amount of words or descriptions like these could capture the last three weeks. We are all still trying to process the events, yet everything continues to feel surreal.

Sitting in my room alone after saying goodbye to all the friends I was able to see after the sudden announcement that campus would be closing, I was overwhelmed with different emotions. I felt longing. Longing for the days that were lost, for the memories and plans that were cut short. I felt lonely. With Mongolia’s borders closing just a day before the announcement, I could not go home and had to seek housing on campus. I was fortunate to be approved to stay on campus, and I am grateful to have access to stable food and resources for the remainder of the semester.

After a difficult transition and a period of homesickness during my first semester, I was beginning to feel more at ease and comfortable at Harvard — thanks to a trip home during winter break and how much closer I’ve grown to my friends here who made every day shine a little brighter. With spring gradually arriving and the weather blessing us with some sunshine, on the days leading up to the notification, students and visitors enjoyed the warmth and each other’s company on the grassy Harvard Yard. I was one of them, but the serenity was shattered by the chaos that ensued in the following week like a scene of an apocalyptic movie.

During the ample time spent alone since my friends’ departure, I have been reflecting on how the meaning of home has shifted for me throughout the past months. From originally only associating the concept of home with the place I grew up in, I have found home far away from Mongolia in a small Yard and, more importantly, in people who made me feel comfortable and made the place warm and inspiring. This sentiment has been echoed by many of my peers upon leaving, and with students now spread across the United States and the world, we are all connected through a yearning for our shared home in Cambridge.

Now, with the campus mostly deserted and the streets emptier, I am once again reaching for comfort and acceptance of my current situation. Isolation and loneliness are more prominent, and I have been trying my best to engage with my friends on campus (with appropriate distance, of course) and loved ones far away. Being away from family at this time is a challenge, and with thousands of international and domestic students in the U.S. staying on their respective campuses, it is a time to remember to take all of this day by day and allow ourselves to just be.

These days, just going through one day with presence and awareness is enough to keep me going. Although sometimes I have no idea what I am doing, I am cultivating as much calmness in my days as possible. Being outside even for a few minutes helps me be more grounded, and with the weather improving in Cambridge, the Charles River is still as beautiful and more lasting than any of my circumstances. The Yard is empty and when I go near Canaday or Annenberg, I feel a rush of nostalgic memories. I am happy to remember the good times we were so fortunate to share at Harvard.

The seriousness of the situation right now is daunting, and I hope we all go through this period safe and healthy. I hope we stay connected and do our best to make sure this crisis passes soon. Despite all the sad goodbyes, I rest knowing that after the pandemic subsides, we will once again be zero miles apart to learn and to connect, to share and to inspire, without any health repercussions.

After all of this passes, we will have days full of hellos. Hugs. Moments. Reunion meals with friends. First upperclassman house food. Unpacking. When that time comes, I hope we will make the most of every day together. Until then, please stay healthy and safe!

Javhlan Amgalanbaatar ’23, a Crimson Editorial editor, lives in Canaday Hall. Her column appears on alternate Wednesdays.