The Flag atop the Eli

There is a flag atop the Eli, the tall apartment building on Church Street by the Courthouse, behind Timothy Dwight College. It is one of the many things you see everyday in the backdrop but not notice, like the bikes parked by your entryway, the parking meters, the birds. It was just one of these things for me till I saw it on the night of my first ever snowstorm. It was the only thing that was neither static nor silent when the rest were getting steadily covered in white without offering any resistance. It seemed taut, distraught. I could hear it brave the wind in the silence of the night.

The next morning was calm. The flag was still there, waving casually, just as it did on any other day, but it was no longer like the bikes by your entryway, the parking meters, the birds. It had more weight, a greater presence, gravity, and command. I was at the window to see what had become of it after the storm first thing in the morning. And I stayed there for a while just looking at it curiously.

It became a daily ritual to look at it while walking across the courtyard on the way to class, and then again in the evening on the way to dinner. It was like a pulse, indicating the passage of time and the ebb and flow of things. It was also a totem for the ability to endure. Sometimes, after a rough day I would sit on the bench to look it at for longer than usual. Sometimes I would even notice some signs of wear and tear. I was never sure if they were actually there or if they were simply artifacts of expectation.

As we leave this town to start in the uncertain “real” world, we can be certain about the snowstorms, the passage of time, the ebb and flow of things. But we can also be certain about the ability to endure. A day may come when you and I feel some wear and tear and begin to doubt this certainty. On that day we may not even remember much of this place or of each other, but we should certainly make a trip to this town, sit on the bench for a few moments, and look at the flag atop the Eli.

Originally written for endeffector.tumblr.com in July 2013