Not many students rise “early” on a Saturday morning. I am one of the few, coaxed up by the sun.
It is 8:25 and, morning person that I am, I lie in bed, listening to quiet seeping undisturbed through my dorm building. Most of my peers are sleeping, and if by chance they are not, they respect the many who are.
Tossing my recently shorn hair into a ponytail, I slip out into the hall and make my way to the deserted lobby. Light streams through the windows, passing through atmosphere and dust to reach me. Back Circle is empty, cars asleep in their temporarily designated small space on campus. A light breeze wriggles the few tangerine-colored leaves left clinging to some trees.
I think of the past week, those little achievements like speaking up in class and having verbalized something worthy of ears, and failures such as when I simply said nothing. As a reserved sort of student, I need to consider these things. I am quick to listen, slow to speak. Too often, I forget the speaking part and get caught up in the listening.
This morning is a suspended moment, when it seems like the world has stopped, just for me, and will wait for me to finish my ponderings and decide to face the day, my homework, and another quite possibly rough week.
This is Transy, when we take a pause from academics.
It is refreshing, even for the overly studious veteran.