Seeing snow for the first time with people from 3 continents.

It's funny how the grand narratives of our university years often fade, replaced by vivid flashes of the simplest moments. We chase academic milestones, forge professional paths, yet what lingers most potently are the spontaneous bursts of joy. Like that crisp late autumn evening, when the sky, bruised purple and grey, finally began to shed its first hesitant flakes.

I remember standing on the quad, huddled with friends from Beijing, Bogotá, and Botswana. None of us, save for perhaps a fleeting childhood memory for one, had truly experienced snow before. There was a collective gasp, a unified shiver of delight, as the world transformed into a silent, sparkling canvas. We were instant children again, catching flakes on tongues, laughing at our clumsy attempts to pack a snowball, the unfamiliar cold biting at our ears but warming our spirits.

That shared moment of pure, unadulterated wonder, with people who saw the world through such different lenses, is a perfectly random, yet utterly unforgettable, piece of campus whimsy. It wasn't about grades or future careers; it was about human connection, simple joy, and a shared first experience that transcended continents and cultures. Those tiny details, those unexpected gifts, are the true treasures we carry forward.