Walking to the Library

I walk slowly across campus to the library, intent on checking out a Madeleine L'Engle novel, specifically the bittersweet coming of age story Camilla, because it feels like it will be a L'Engle type of weekend. As I stroll across campus I breathe in the crisp, clear air and absorb all the sensations the short journey has to offer. I pass the building where they are taking senior portraits, every few seconds a flash bulb goes off and the light bursts through the window. The flashes come quick and fleeting, I wonder if any of the seniors draw parallels between the swift snapshots and their college years. Ahead of me a tree has cast millions of yellow leaves onto the ground; a boy veers off the path to walk deliberately through them, sending out rich crunching noises and a flurry of leaves that float and settle in his wake. I pass a group of girls talking and overhear one of them confide "I wish I had a sister," in a wistful tone. The campus garden is now a flattened "winterized" box of dirt where one week ago stood tall, drooping sunflowers, bright and overripe tomatoes and rows of lettuce lined up like small green soldiers. Someone has forgotten their ball cap and it lies a bright patch of color in the mound of monotonous dirt. The library welcomes me with its smell of old books and the whispers of pages turning travel through the air as loud as the voices of people. On my ipod The Shins play and my book is in. I think it is definitely going to be a Madeleine L'Engle weekend. Related to that I will not be positing Saturday or Sunday, but should return by Monday.