The Quadrangle—the heart of our campus grounds and a place alive with so many memories. I can picture it even now, the quiet expanse of grass beneath our backs as we lay out under the open sky, just relaxing after a difficult day of academics. It was here, surrounded by friends, that life slowed down, and we could just be.
On so many nights, we’d gather after our evening meal, laughing and sharing stories, talking about everything that mattered and some things that didn’t. The conversations were endless, winding from science to theology to adolescent nonsense to our families back home. Under that sky, everything felt a little closer and a little clearer. It was the kind of place where you could lose yourself in thought or find yourself in the words of a friend.
And then there were the rumbles. How could I forget those? A time-honored ritual, both terrifying and thrilling, where the sophomores welcomed the freshmen into our new world. It was half-introduction, half-initiation, and it had a way of creating bonds that felt like they’d last a lifetime. We were just a bunch of young men, nervous and hopeful, ready to be a part of something bigger than ourselves.
Lying in that grass, talking, laughing, dreaming—we could almost hear the echo of the seminarians that came before us, just as we were leaving our own mark for those who would follow. If I close my eyes, I can still hear the laughter, the debates, the whispered prayers of those nights. And above it all, the Arizona stars, silent witnesses to the memories we were making together.
Comments