Gladeside Sketch

Having just stolen a morsel of salad and a sip of coffee from an unsuspecting student at the Free Speech Movement Cafe, I scurry along the concrete road towards the Glade. A gentle breeze blows inland from the Bay; the sun beams, unchallenged by cloud, warming the field to a perfect 67 degrees. I’ve never thought of Berkeley as the idyllic American university campus — it’s no UCLA or Virginia, according to long-lost friends who have migrated there — but on days like today, I really can’t complain.

There’s a tree on the far side, my favorite spot on campus — in the whole city, in fact. As I make my way over, I glance around: there’s the Asian family touring, their bored children trying to snap a photo of the orchid blossoms at just the right angle; the frat bros, tossing a frisbee with mediocre ability but valiant effort; the lazy seniors, going into their final semester, not a care in the world.

I prop myself up on the large branch of the tree, and notice my good friend Carol climb up to join me.
“The people-watching is excellent today,” I comment. She nods in agreement. But we know it won’t last long; today the glade is freshmen playing indie pop and the couple taking a selfie and the platonic pair sharing their winter break sexcapades, but tomorrow it’ll be postdocs walking head-down, deep in thought; engineers descending from the Northside hills, trodding grim-faced to the next class.

But that’s tomorrow and this is today, so I snap out of it and put a smile back on.
“Mm, have any food?”
Carol generously rolls over an acorn, fresh out of the ground not far away, and I wave my tail in appreciation. It’s good to be a Berkeley squirrel.