McGuinn

Boston College is made up of one hundred and seventy-five acres with over one hundred and twenty buildings. Students flock to the great hall of Bapst Library and sit around long tables with wooden chairs as the sunlight streams through the stained glass windows. Others make their way to O’Neill Library and sit amongst the never-ending rows of books that rarely leave their spot. People are always waiting for a spot to open at the Chocolate Bar in Stokes. Perhaps it’s the smell of the coffee brewing or the beauty of the architecture that draws them there.

These places rarely saw me. No, I didn’t study in the beauty of Bapst, or the knowledge of O’Neill, or the aromas of the Chocolate Bar. No, more often than not you could find me in the lobby of McGuinn.

Why? Why out of all the newly constructed buildings on campus would I study in one of the most outdated ones? I’m not sure if I entirely know myself. To be honest, it began out of pure convenience. On Wednesday evenings, before my night class, I would pull on the black metal handle, open the glass doors, and sit down in one of the square blue chairs. But soon, it wasn’t just Wednesday nights that brought me there, for some reason I just kept going back to those large blue chairs and brown coffee tables.

It became the place I got the most work done. Pages of papers written, the plays of Shakespeare read, or the insights of Socrates pondered over.

During the winter, as the doors opened and closed bringing the chill of the air inside, keeping me awake and focused. The noise of the people walking to and from class, together and alone, sad or happy, would keep me on my toes, pushing me to finish my never-ending to-do list.

I was alone but always surrounded by people. I can’t count the number of hellos and goodbyes I said while I sat in that lobby, the number of smiles and waves I gave to friends and acquaintances.

A place that most just used as a cut through during the winter or a pit stop to print a last-minute paper became my spot. Most laughed that I picked this spot over the thousands of other places on campus, but I liked my blue chair tucked in the corner of the lobby; it became my place.

Many moments that happened in this building will never leave my memory. Being asked to help out at a birthday party. Having a cute boy smile down on me as we talked about nonsense. A phone call to my grandparents urging them to stay over for the holidays. The multitude of conversations with a professor who turned mentor.

Perhaps it isn’t on many people’s lists of favorite buildings across the beautiful campus in Chestnut Hill, Massachusetts, but it’s on mine.