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Walking down campus everyday I am in my own world. This is my time.

I daydream as I please while walking from one side of campus to the other; all the while with one goal on my mind, and that is to make it to class on time. Or at least as close to on time as I can.

Walking back from class today with my friends, we stepped onto the “dangerous” crossing of Grand and West Pine. Rumor has it if you get hit by a car, St. Louis University owes you big time. They are supposed to give you free tuition. The rumor has yet to be confirmed—thank god.

There were cars passing as we waited at the halfway mark; the boys were being boys as usual…full of mischief. They dared me to jump into the middle of Grand and dodge my way around the cars. And hey…if I got hit, I could confirm the rumor. And bonus! I would become a legend.

An ambulance came by, “perfect!” they said. “If you get hit by the ambulance it can just pick you up and take you the hospital.” Yes, how perfect. I just ignored them and kept walking, drifting back into my time, my world.

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Me and Seema could never bear to waste such a glorious day sitting inside. Running outside bare foot, we were ready to embrace the day and create new nothings with our wild imaginations. As we rushed to climb to the very top of Seema ’s father’s old suburban, I noticed its dirty black monster tires and silly windshield-wiper eyelashes. It was rusty and ancient looking, almost like a grandpa that was too old. It looked like it had been neglected in the rain for a long time, like no one loved it. Of course that was the opposite of true, we treasured this old car. It was our comfort spot, there was always something going on up there on the roof of the old Chevy. It had this crusty auburn color that complimented the leaves of fall in the most beautiful way. I don’t know if the color came from the rust or it was really meant to be that way. Whatever it was, it was just right.
The giant hood was just big enough for our seven year old bodies to lie on, sunning ourselves. We lay counting the tremendous animal-shaped clouds, wondering how they got so perfectly fluffy. And how did the blue blue sky get so big? We would plop ourselves down on the very roof of the suburban and just stare up into the old tree, our favorite tree. Keenly, we searched for blackberries, or raspberries, or perhaps they were blueberries? Seema and I never knew what they were, but we liked them. Only, there were never many left at all, but that could only be our fault since we probably plucked all of them last time we were up there. We were on top of the world sitting on that old suburban. Together we concocted what life should be like and imagined it into reality. We decided we would be important people and that we could never forget any of our secrets. We promised this to each other, and the suburban was our silent witness.

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It’s raining, its pouring, the old man is snoring. The weather is wretched and somehow I manage to get pleasure out of this. At times the weather tends to match my mood. It comes to accompany me as I go through my day, dejected and down. It is kind of nice though, the company. It is somewhat satisfying to have something there with you. Even if it is just the weather. The weather is almost better than real company, it is a silent and comforting accomplice.

This is like hoodie weather, but with an umbrella. What an annoying accessory. I hate all the extra effort that has to be made for those pouring skies. Grey and dull in every way, it looks like the sky is angry at you. Frowning down upon us all as it sheds its tears of sorrow. Eventually it goes back to a regular blue, having discarded its sorrows now. But still we must put up with the toils of the rain. It is as if the crying sky is saying, “I am miserable, so you should be too.” We all roll up our pants and run to class in the gloomy weather. As long as it is miserable with me though, it’s okay. At least the hoodies are nice, they add some comfort in this whole mess of dreariness. They seal the relationship between me and my weather.
It almost cheers me up a little, the rain. I am in bad mood and I look out the window to see the rain trickling down, crying from the sky—there is some comfort in this. Almost like I won, I got to choose the weather so that it would match my mood. It has to accompany me and my misery. It couldn’t just leave me alone like that, who would I relate to then? What would I stare at out of my window for hours on end? Chirping birds and fluffy clouds…I don’t think so.

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The air was chilly, in the middle of April too. How upsetting; usually campus would be overflowing with students running around outside at this time of the year. I walked past the empty quad, missing the comforting spring breeze and the April sun. This felt more like the fall coming on to winter. This felt like hoodie weather. Hmm…even the air smelt of chill. The wind nipped at the giant trees that were casting their shadows over my head. The grass was not fully green yet and all the leaves hadn’t even come back. How depressing.

I looked down as I kept walking, listening to my ipod on this lonesome walk. I noticed the cobblestone of our pathway. I hated it. It always found a way to eat away at the tips of my favorite pair of heels. No matter how careful I was, my shoes were done. Last time I went to get my heels replaced, the old German shoe repair man yelled at me for letting them get so bad. He didn’t know how hard it was to take care of your shoes when walking on this campus.

I kept walking. It was getting colder as I made my way to my apartment. The tulips were shivering, their long stems swaying in the icy wind. I could feel their pain. Their pretty little colorful heads were blooming as if the sun had been shining down at them this whole time, the sun that should have been shining down at them this whole time. Instead of being kissed by the rays of the spring sun, their lipstick red petals were faced with this dreary chill. And I think we both agreed that this unwelcome hoodie weather just needed to make its way back to October and leave us with the pleasantries of April.

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