Identity and Sunlit Staircases
There is a sunlit staircase I can see vividly in my mind, made of the light-colored stone that so much University architecture uses. To this day, I can’t remember if it was Watson or Anschutz (probably Anschutz after a Psychology class), but I remember the warmth of the sun spreading between my shoulder blades. I remember how my energy that day felt like the ground was nudging me up with every step. I jogged up the steps to the top and blew through the door of the library to study something clinical and science-like that really interests me but probably would bore most readers (really admittedly, I am pretty dull unless you somehow break through my shell, which can be difficult!). It was one of those few perfect days without pain or fatigue enough to really break consciousness. It was a day I felt so free and untethered that it felt like if I just jumped a small way in the air, maybe for a second, I could fly. Or maybe for me, being able to run up some steps was being able to fly.