I didn’t expect to fall in love with the patch of blue sky beyond Barnard Hall, but I did. In fact, it’s not so different from the rest of the sky in New York City, except that it’s framed quite nicely by Barnard Hall, Milstein, and the ornate facade of the apartment building across the street. When the sun sets, the clouds there seem to glow a little brighter than all the others, and at night, a couple of stars always peek in through the light pollution. When I look at that patch of sky, I imagine that I can see the sky all the way across the Hudson River into New Jersey, and if I look a little harder, I can see through New Jersey into the states beyond. That patch of sky could lead me anywhere.
I found this patch of sky during the first week of school; on a Wednesday, to be precise. It was three in the afternoon, I had just finished my second first day of college academics, and I was Tired™. I found myself walking to the fifth floor of Diana, where there were fun orange chairs and the air was always cold. Someone before me had moved one of those orange chairs to the window, and I claimed it: sat down, took off my shoes, and started eating my salad. It was when I looked up from my lunch that I noticed a patch of blue sky beyond Barnard Hall. The sun was to the west, and it lit up the buildings in front of me. The sky was a lovely summer blue, and the clouds seemed to glow. It was tranquil. I took a step back from my day and remembered to breathe.
As I started NSOP, I knew I had to find a piece of campus that was simply mine. A place where I could sit, and breathe, and let the day wash over me. In college, there are not many spaces that are simply yours. You have a dorm, but it’s shared with other people. There are libraries, but they are always busier than you expect, and dining halls are loud with even just a few people talking. With this mission in hand, I walked through every building on Barnard’s campus during NSOP and the week that followed. I found the woodshop in the bottom of Milbank, the lounge and computer lab on the fifth floor of Milstein, and the lounge on the first floor of Brooks Hall. But it was this spot, where I could see the blue sky beyond Barnard Hall, that I claimed to be simply mine.
I find myself returning to the orange chair on the fifth floor of Diana on Mondays and Wednesdays after my classes have finished. Somedays I take off my shoes, listen to music, and eat my salad. Other days, I just take a couple deep breaths, take in the view, and head off to dinner. It has become my space to do what I need to do to feel centered: a place where I can let everything go and enjoy the beauty that is the blue sky beyond Barnard Hall.