It’s early in the morning at The Cornell Daily Sun. Writers are writing, editors are editing and computers are computing, and the paper is on its way to publication for the last time this semester. Sad times, indeed.

The editors at The Sun are on the last leg of a semester-long marathon. Tonight has been a night of reflection and catharsis, a night when editors come together to describe exactly why it is that they do what they do, and why they will continue in their various capacities next semester. It’s been a long night.

We’ve tried our best over the last few months to bring you, our readers, the best content we can relevant to the Cornell community. We’ve tried our best, and we truly had a great time.

Isolated in our downtown Ithaca offices, The Sun editors have formed a family of sorts over the last year, as is traditionally the case at our publication. This year has been one of innovation, a consistent struggle to keep up with the rest of print media as we change to meet the needs of an online generation. It’s quite the time to be an editor at The Sun. This is one reason why we do what we do.

It is assumed at Cornell that The Sun will appear everyday in such popular places as Libe Café, Collegetown Bagels and elsewhere. But as the night turns to morning here at 139 W. State St., a committed team of Sunnies continues to labor over headlines, captions and kickers, a testament to their dedication and a reminder that The Sun would not and could not exist without their initiative.

The last night of publication is always a bittersweet time at The Sun offices. On the one hand, we are thankful for a break from the daily grind of newspapering. After all, it is only at the end of the semester that we finally have time to attend class, complete homework assignments and generally pass our classes. On the other hand, the last night of publication means no more nights at The Sun, no more nights when creativity and insanity compound to produce an unexpected and remarkable product.

With that, we bid you farewell until next semester. We’re sad to leave you, but we promise we will return. There is something that draws us to The Sun every night, and as much as it tires us, we could never live without it. The smell of newsprint, the glint of a computer screen at four in the morning and the hum of a printer dispensing the last page of another epic edition of our newspaper. There’s nothing like it.