Spring (noun): a basin or pool of water
A natural spring forms when pressure from underground rock formations forces groundwater to flow out of the Earth’s surface and escape through an opening. The water squeezes through the narrow fissures between layers of rock and soil as individual droplets accumulate into a puddle above. Water collects in a continuous stream, constantly replenished by rainfall. A noteworthy quality of water molecules is their cohesive nature. Pulled towards one another by hydrogen bonds, they stick together—leaning, catching, holding, growing. Much like humans do.
Hot springs are springs heated by geothermal energy from Earth’s interior. With a greater amount of energy in the system, the water molecules become overexcited. Hyperactive and jittery, they move around more actively in a vibrational motion. They need more space to roam, but are limited within the confines of their surroundings. The stress and chaos and nervousness fester until one day it can no longer be contained. The puddle boils over in a massive explosion, sending jets of steam into the air. The droplets disperse until they eventually settle.
Calm again.
Spring (verb): to leap, to jump
New city, new job, new people. Post-grad life looms ahead of you. There’s nothing you can do to prepare for it. So, you listen to “Scared to Start” by Michael Marcagi and ponder your fear of beginning anew.
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The gravel shuffles beneath your feet. You inch within reach of the edge, letting the adrenaline build into a lump in your throat. From this angle, the earth seems to stretch into an unending, bottomless abyss. You try to map out the possibilities and predict the outcomes, but to no avail. You spring into full launch, taking a leap of faith.
Your body tenses, you clench your hands into fists, and brace yourself for the impact before it even comes. In the first few moments, everything happens extremely fast. The trees flick past in a blur. The wind whips against your face. Plummeting, plunging. But then the air shifts and you feel…free. You remember that acceleration is constant during freefall so you close your eyes and let the wind carry you into the unknown. Everything feels uncertain, but you know that the water awaits below, ready to catch you.
Spring (verb): to move forward quickly
Every year on a random Sunday in March, we spring forward. Despite the promise of brighter, longer days, this change is always disorienting. Theoretically, losing an hour should be the same as lying awake an extra hour scrolling on TikTok at night, right? Yet somehow, daylight savings feels more disruptive. The sun comes out, but my mind is clouded. As the sky seems to stretch higher, my eyes droop lower.
The feeling is temporary. Soon, I adjust, as does everything around me. Campus comes alive again. In the morning, I spend hours on the Main Green, followed by afternoon walks, evenings at Barrington, and night walks. A different routine takes form as the quiet, cozy winter days recede behind the horizon.
Not all countries observe daylight savings—particularly, regions that are closer to the equator. Some U.S. territories like Puerto Rico, Guam, and Hawaii stopped changing the clock in the mid-90s. The topic seems to be a recurring point of discussion. Year after year, I hear rumors that “this is the last time,” but isn’t time subjective anyway? Regardless, both options require a reset of some kind. One is an annual, repeated occurrence, the other is a large-scale, one-time adjustment. A notable day in Sweden—known as Dagen H, when the whole country switched from driving on the left side of the road to the right—showed that sudden change will inevitably be uncomfortable. But over time, there comes a new normal.
Nonetheless, in November, we will fall back again. Life moves on.
Spring (noun): a metal coil
A spring is a physical representation of the inner workings of potential energy. It stores energy when a force is applied, then releases that energy when the force is removed. Its bouncy and elastic properties allow it to function in various ways. It can absorb shock and lessen the impact of a collision. It can catapult an object farther than it would be able to travel on its own. In any case, it acts as a crutch. It is resilient and patient, expecting the opportunity to be useful. Its function is to serve as a cushion, compressing and stretching, altering its own shape so as to support other objects.
When you spend so much time giving yourself to other people, you may forget to stand strong for yourself. At its resting state, a spring finally returns to its original form. And you learn to balance both.
Spring (verb): to originate from
On my first birthday, I embarked on a 20+ hour trip to China. For the next 18 months, I would live there with my grandparents while my parents were on the other side of the world. The first few years of a child’s life are essential for cognitive and language development, motor skills, and social-emotional learning. Many foundational characteristics and milestones spring from this period.
I don’t remember anything from that time, but my mom’s photo album tells the story. On the first page, there’s a picture of me standing on the ledge next to the windowsill of my grandparents’ house, waving to neighbors and passersby. Through the window, there are distant outlines of gourds and grapes neatly strung along the fence of the garden. On the next page, I’m in my grandpa’s arms posing in front of Tiananmen Square. My left hand is clutching a mini portable fan to combat the summer heat. In my right hand is a Xi Yang Yang figurine from my favorite childhood TV show. In another picture, my cousin and I are playing dress up with mannequins and dolls nearly the same height as us. There is a faded yellow filter over the photo—either an indicator of the living room’s warm light, or signs of the album’s old age and the dust it has collected over the years. Maybe it’s both.
We sold our Beijing house after my grandparents passed away, and I haven’t been back in 10 years. Does Chen Nai Nai have someone to go on post-dinner walks with? Does Zhu Nai Nai still make zong zi for everyone on our street? I hope another little girl is waving by the windowsill.
Spring (noun): the season after winter and before summer
We tend to think of seasons in terms of months and relative time periods. In the Northern Hemisphere, spring roughly spans from the middle of March to the end of May. Scientifically, the start of spring is called the Vernal Equinox. There are only two times in the year when the Northern and Southern Hemispheres receive equal amounts of daylight and darkness at all latitudes: the Vernal Equinox and the Autumn Equinox. On the Vernal Equinox, the Earth’s axis is tilted just so; it is neither facing towards or away from the sun.
The in-between is both calming and unsettling. It’s not quite an ending, but it’s not yet a beginning. I’m about equidistant in age from 14, when I started freshman year of high school, to 30, and that’s terrifying. But we’ll all figure it out together, and that’s reassuring.
It’s a bit past the Vernal Equinox now. The Northern Hemisphere is approaching the sun, but we’re still closer to the Vernal Equinox than we are to the summer solstice. I wish I could stay in the in-between for just a little longer.
