By Peter Bratt

Staff Writer

On of my favorite Robert Frost poems, titled ``A Boundless Moment,'' could just as easily apply to Michigan in February as it does to the New England that he lived in nearly 75 years ago. It is quite a simple poem, and rather short, since it has only three stanzas, but the last always has a soft place in my heart:

We stood a moment so in a strange world,

myself as one his own pretense deceives:

And then I said the truth (and we moved on).

A young beech clinging to its last year's leaves.

It is here that Frost, at least for me, sums up springs in Michigan. I never truly appreciated the late days of February or early ones of March, until I left the region last year for the warmer climates of the South where spring is perpetually in existence. While it was quite nice to have warm weather earlier than in the Great Lakes region, you don't quite get the same satisfaction that one gets on a Michigan morning and realize that it the first day of spring, regardless of what the calendar says. In short, it is hard to be thankful for something that is always around.

We often only appreciate things after they are gone. Love, friends, strength and wisdom are all things that come and go in spurts, are here today and gone tomorrow.

For many of us at Calvin College, this spring is the last we are to have while as students at this school, and this of course brings the usual entourage of feelings. While for some the thought of never having to get up for an 8:00 class or lab is evident of divine providence at work in the world, the fact of removal from friends and relationships that have developed over a period of time is, in its own way, quite heartbreaking. All of us, since arriving at Calvin as freshmen, have been transformed into different persons after four years here.

My folks always said that they missed Calvin the most when they had to round up all their children for an activity, and longed for the days of being able to behave like carefree students once again. Most likely, we who are graduating this spring, and those who come countless years after us, will not truly appreciate Calvin College until we are long removed from it. The energy levels that enabled us to watch movies all night, sustain three hour make out sessions or pump out a paper in one night of effort are soon to be gone, and in its place will be something quite different. I am simply quite worried that I will spend longer parts of my day in traffic somewhere, wondering what happened to the young man who scorned the ``slavery of the automobile.''

Despite the problems with Calvin, whether it be campus architecture, the food or open house policy, we often forget how lucky we are to be here. I can't help but be thankful for being a citizen of a nation that has a Bill of Rights, being born into a family that put family life over the pursuit of the dollar and being a student at a school that is concern not only with academic education but the education of the soul as well. The professors who teach here earn a meager amount compared to what they could receive elsewhere, and yet they stay. The problems we often complain about are testaments to the stability and durability that so mark this school, and for that we are quite fortunate.

So as the seasons of love, Lent and a rebirth of life come around once again in our world, truly remember how blessed you are. Notice the blossoms that spring from the trees, give your beloved a mark of your love, and appreciate the blessings that mark your life. After all, you only live it once.