In each installment of “Senior Scaries,” Erin Ye ’26 confronts her senior-year fears in her final three quarters at Stanford. You’ll hear about the triumphs and tribulations of tackling the Senior Bucket List™, and hopefully feel less alone in the never-ending soul search that comes with growing up.

I think I’ve finally reached the point where I feel ready to graduate.

That feels weird to say, because I am not the type of person who ever feels ready for what’s about to happen next. The day that I got into Stanford, my phone was at 1%, and I was scared it would die before my decision letter loaded. I still don’t charge my phone enough. I’m a chronic under-packer, and usually realize that I’ve forgotten my contact lenses or my pajamas right as the plane is about to take off. Somehow, though, I always figure it out. 

I thought that senior year would feel the same, that I would charge at it headfirst and feel immense fear at the last hour. I thought I’d have regrets about not doing enough, or insecurities when comparing my postgrad plans to my peers’. Instead, I feel an eerie sense of peace.

In the last five weeks, I’ve been to Hawaii, San Diego and Napa Valley. I’ve snorkeled in Haunama Bay, hosted a dorm formal at a winery, and ran a half marathon the next morning. I’ve said “yes,” to everything and seen it pay off. My Stanford Bucket List, which has sat at the forefront of my mind for the past four years, is down to a few unchecked items. There is a strange feeling of satisfaction and sorrow in recognizing I have squeezed this place for most of what it’s worth. 

During Admit Weekend, I met up with a family friend, who is an incoming freshman. Seeing him experience Stanford for the first time reminded me of how I felt as a new student, and brought to light the perfect things I often take for granted now. We were walking down the Row when he said that he’d never seen a real palm tree before. It occurred to me that before coming to California, I probably hadn’t either. He asked me how it was possible to know where everything was on such a big campus. I told him that you start to learn paths the way that water erodes rocks, and that eventually, you’re able to walk the entire place with your eyes closed, because you know the grooves by heart.

There are other feelings I’ve come to know by heart since coming to Stanford. Sitting in the passenger seat of a car with my hands peeking out of the sunroof, hearing what will become my favorite song for the first time. Running along a shaded sidewalk with only the sun and the wind to bear witness. Reading a phrase so good I immediately want to share it with a friend, or learning something that fundamentally changes my worldview, scratching an itch by answering a question I didn’t know I’d been asking my whole life.

I’ll never be able to capture it all: what it feels like to swim next to a rainbow-colored fish or watch a hawk fly over Mars. How lucky I am to run into friends at lunchtime and be able to say with certainty that I’ll see them later; goodbyes are not hard when you know they aren’t permanent. They will hold more weight in the future, but for now they feel light, like air between my fingers.

Maybe it’s because I know the end is near and it’s too late to start something new at Stanford, but for once, I am not worried about what lies ahead. My next five weeks will be spent in celebration, and I know that if my time in college came to a close today, I would feel like I had made it count. How good this place has been to me! How lucky I am to have it as the setting of stories I will tell for the rest of my life.