Final Day to be 25

Tonight in Oxford I am aware of the smells. Between Cornmarket Street and the theatre, scents of old smoke and grease hang like nearly forgotten memories in the air. Closer to the Thames the smell of wet wood being burnt mixes with spicy Asian food. On street after street persons young and old light cigarettes, laugh with one another, duck into restaurants, or jog to catch the evening bus. Near the train station the smell of damp earth and Spring coalesce with a woodsmoke.

This evening I notice the sights in Oxford. How could one miss them? Spire after spire rise in the evening skyline. I step into the quadrangle of Christ Church College and see stars breaking through a patch of sky overhead. I see the fountain, the globed lights, and a small group of persons milling in the entryway to the cathedral. Inside my eyes land upon vaulted stone ceilings. On the floor a slab tells me that John Locke was a student at Christ Church. Robes, candles, and ecclesiastical icons greet my eager eyes. I close my eyelids to drink in nothing but the sound of the choir.

Today I hear the sounds of Oxford. There are shouts in the open market. Men and women are calling out the prices of their wares. I hear the rustle of pages in the library. Birds chirp at all hours or the day and night (which is a bit unnerving in the dark). I listen to rain on the wood shingles of the Cloisters. The Thames gurgles along, lapping at its muddy banks. Homeless men are heard on nearly every street corner, "Big Issue, miss?" they ask.

Now I am home. Time to read and catch some sleep before tea tomorrow with my Summit Oxford friends. The final day of being 25 is drawing to a close. It has been a good day, a good year. Here is to all that 26 holds!

~ Johanna