When I was in college I had a spot. My favorite spot on campus went from being at the center of campus in front of a statue of Jesus carrying the cross, to the Bell Tower (that really wasn’t a bell tower, more like a semi-closed brick enclosure with a section of elevated bricks where a bronzed bell called home), to a series of steps in front of the business building. I loved that spot. When I was stressed out from school, relationship drama, LSAT prep, or simply wanted to clear my head, I would make my way there. Few people went there unless they had class or something.

I went there to stare up at the sky. I would sit on the railing, the left or the ride side of the railing, didn’t matter. My gaze was always skyward. I would watch sunrises, sunsets, storms rolling in or out, calm sunny days. It became my sanctuary. A place I invited very few people to share with me. After I graduated, I went back to my spot. The feeling wasn’t the same. It wasn’t mine anymore. Perhaps it had served its purpose. Either way, for four years it was my haven. My secret place to commune with God and myself.