Ashes

While I was here, I had a love-hate relationship with my college. I sometimes hated the social environment it fostered. But I loved the classes, and the professors, and the history here. And I loved the campus. I can think of few places I’d rather be than standing right in this spot on a quiet Sunday afternoon. And I did just that, again and again, when I went to school here. And it would always relax me. And make me feel lucky and good and glad to be alive. I can’t explain it. And I don’t really want to. Not with words, anyway. The explanation is the thing. Beyond that, there is nothing.

So I stopped here this past Sunday afternoon, on my drive back from Texas. And I stood in this spot. And I walked the brick pathways and I thought about her and how she understood about place. How she understood the connection you feel with certain buildings or cities or spots. How you feel like in some way they belong to you. But they don’t. They don’t belong to you. They belong to a lot of people. And probably a lot of people feel that connection you feel. And that’s part of what is great about them.

And I’m going to say it now, because I can: I want some of my ashes dropped on this campus. I want some of my ashes dropped on this fucking spot. Do you hear me?