I love early university mornings.

On the best days, I wake up a little before sunrise. I shuffle around in my dorm room, bumping into my table’s corner and dresser as I fumble for toothbrush, water bottle, glasses, telephone. I try my best to muffle each soft step on the creaky floorboards so as not to rouse my roommates.

The first step out of the building is the most invigorating: Inhale fresh, on the cusp of pleasantly cool air; exhale stale, stuffy dorm air. What a gift it is to move, to feel, to be alive. The colors of dawn are the most beautiful—soft shades of petal pink to dusty lapis blue—as the world wakes up with you. I can say a lot of the “mosts” most mornings—most tiring, most dark, most calm, most peaceful. Lately, I’ve been most grateful.

In the morning, campus is quiet like it is on a hungover Sunday, but without the hangover. There’s still a chill in the air, and chirping birdsong in the trees behind Andrews rouses me, quiet sounds that you don’t notice until you’re alone, truly alone. My heart is the stillest in these moments, never more confident in its slow, steady thrumming as I imagine myself in an abandoned world. Thayer is empty, save for the beeping of reversing trucks behind V-Dub. It’s so lovely to have mornings where you look forward to waking up in itself.

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I like to grab breakfast, something warm that sits fillingly and pleasantly in my stomach, and head to class. Campus slowly wakes up around midday. A few loitering fellows start to stretch and claim plastic seats on the Main Green, setting up workstations and picnic blankets. But the grass is likely still wet from the evening prior, so these bodies are as temporary as a spring shower, waiting to take root once their friends can join them on the Green. For now, I watch as I stride to class, tucked away in my light jacket, leaving the calm solitude of morning meditation.

Everything is still slow and chilly enough that there’s no regret after sitting down in a dusty lecture hall or classroom for fifty minutes, an hour and twenty minutes, or two hours and thirty minutes. But when I step outside, and the sun starts beaming, the ball starts rolling.

My light jacket has made its way to my arm, the cloudless sky making it a smidge too warm to wear. When jazz on the Main Green hits at mid-afternoon, I know the quiet is over, and it’s time for the cheery, bubbling, joy-filled Main Green laughter and chatter I signed up for in my “quintessential college experience.” The Main Green is most vibrantly alive in mid-afternoon. Once out of a contemplative morning class, it’s time to grab a meal before the next one.

It’s such a delight to grab an Andrew’s bowl to-go, then sit and sun yourself on the Main Green! My favorite spot is the semicircular stone ledge around the “Bronze Bruno” statue. The little rocks stuck in the concrete are rough and cool against the underside of my thighs, a pleasant contrast to the radiant sun cooking the top half. I like to sit on the segment where I have to swing my legs over from the “Bronze Bruno” side, where my legs are too short to touch the ground, so I can swing them back and forth as I munch on a dry noodle bowl. I listen to music and singing, clubs hawking show tickets or seeking survey responses, and flowing chit-chat as I slowly become sun-drunk.

At this point, it’s a shame to have to leave the Green and attend to any other duties of the day. I love the smell of sunshine in my clothes mixed with sweet mineral sunscreen. I grab a spot on the Green with friends and splay myself out on a picnic blanket or two, happy to enjoy warmth and good company. It’s not a very productive type of splay, but there’s something to be said about producing joy.

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The students retire with the sun. I think the best time to take a shower in warm weather, washing off the day’s sunscreen and oil and grass-stain buildup, is at the cusp of dusk. It’s still just warm enough that the shower water evaporates itself from my hair afterward, moving from wet to damp to dry. As my hair dries, I’ll sit at my wooden dorm desk and type out some work, watching the hues of the sky change with the sunset. My whole body is filled with a sunned-out tiredness, like whatever sour energies inside me have precipitated themselves out. The day’s just been too delightful to complain about. I came, I ate, I learned, I loved. It’s time for bed.