It’s Monday afternoon, and I’m sitting in a square of sunlight on the third floor of the beautiful new building on campus. Across from me is Ryan, all dressed up and dapper after an important meeting. I’m out of work at 3 on Mondays, and he had to take the afternoon for the meeting. Now we’ve got the next hour or so just to sit, soak in the sun (in my cold-blooded case) or the air conditioning (in his long-sleeved, walked across campus case), and catch up on things.
It’s really very nice here. There’s a quiet buzz of activity floating up from the first floor, where they’ve got surprisingly good food offerings and a coffee/smoothie stand. The furniture is all adorable, modular, and comfortable; the carpet is relatively inoffensive for what they put on campuses (same as casinos, usually) and there is glass and light everywhere. Ryan and I both are in butter yellow shirts, so we probably look like cutesy twinsies. It’s okay. Everything is kind of warm and lovely right now, and I don’t mind looking goofy.
To my right is a wall of window. A pair of crows just flew by at my eye level, and beneath me the campus is divided up into blocks of green grass and white concrete, big jade trees blotting out expanses of red brick. There aren’t many people down there right now – the next between-class won’t be for another ten minutes or so – but when they come they will come in droves. There are a lot of people on campus these days, the result of normal growth and a post-Fiesta Bowl enrollment boom. Don’t laugh – it really happened. Numbers skyrocketed last January.
Lots of good people-watching here.
This is a good feeling. Sitting here, in this shiny new building (it’s a classroom building, but made to function and feel a lot like a secondary student union) I feel young again, like a sophomore or junior, just starting out on this whole college thing. I’m sitting here with Ryan, and I remember sitting in the SUB planting the seeds of a chapter and – although we didn’t know it – a marriage. Now we’re here on the other side of the equation, and yet there are more seeds, more auspicious beginnings.
There are clouds in the sky, but they are faint and wispy and manageable. The greenness is much closer and more real.