Windward walk

Tuesday, January 20, 2026

01:52 P.M.

21° F (feels like 9° F)

En route to my laboratory section in Disque Hall,

a historic academic building in Drexel’s Quadrangle,

my teary eyes glance around the quiet courtyard,

unable to unfurl against the scouring gusts of wind.

My walk to class demanded full focus and the resolve to endure the biting Philadelphia cold.

Almost there. Careful… careful! Do not rush.

Where are my mittens? I cannot feel my fingers.

This does not feel like 9°. Agh!

My nose is running.

Students, dog-walkers and commuters

congregate at pedestrian hybrid beacons,

their lips sealed,

noses flushed,

and fingers deep within their pockets.

The perpendicular crosswalk’s timer flickered,

10…9…8…

as they stand shivering in silence

awaiting permission to cross,

careful not to lose footing on black ice.

All sounds of conversation disappear.

Only the spindly branches of trees striking against one another,

a SEPTA bus exhaling at the curb with a metallic shrieeeeeeek,

and the winter winds whistling can be heard.

The only weight mooring me down

from being lifted off by 16-mile-drafts

is my backpack,

heavy with stationary and writing materials,

notebooks,

chargers and powerbanks,

lab manuals,

and an Apple ecosystem.

Finally, I appreciate those extra pounds on my back.

WHOOOSSSHHH.

A sudden gust blows past my face - violent and deliberate.

In an instant, my hood flies off my head,

my feet side-stepped from inbalance,

my backpack straps tug at my shoulders,

urging me to tumble.

Oh!

I see glass doors ahead,

fluorescent light spilling onto the pavement,

and the promise of warm air waiting on the other side.

We…are… s-so close.