I work for a large medical complex located on a university campus. When I arrive early in the morning, people coming off the night shift hustle past those of us coming in for the day. I have to walk a fair distance from my assigned parking lot to the building where my office is located. When the weather is nice, I enjoy the walk. In the wintertime, not so much.
There are a lot of people who work in a hospital center. Healthcare professionals work alongside maintenance, housekeeping, landscapers, and office personnel, with a few other roles in between. I see some familiar faces on my way into the clinic, and we smile. I’m ready for the new day ahead while they’re ready for a good sleep.
Sometimes, a man sits on a concrete stairway, nestled in greenery between two larger buildings. Not every morning, but often enough. He’s far enough away from my route that I’ve never seen him up close, but I can tell it’s always the same guy. He sits in the same general area, maybe even the same step. Just sits. I’m not sure whether he’s getting ready for the day or leaving a night shift. He intrigues me, though.
I love that he takes a moment. Maybe he’s preparing for the tasks ahead on his calendar or processing the work he just finished. I often wonder if he sits there on the difficult mornings, since I don’t see him every day. Does he just need a moment to center himself? Or does he choose mornings with a beautiful sunrise to simply breathe in the fresh air? I don’t know how long he’s been there before I see him or how long he stays on that step. I’ve also never seen anyone join him, though he could be waiting for someone to walk to or from work.
The step in that concrete stairwell, tucked between clinics, must offer him some sort of refuge. Whatever he uses it for, it’s his place.
I like that idea. It makes me think about my special place, but I don’t really have one place. Sure, there’s one end of our couch that is mine. Even the dog knows it. My blanket is there year-round. There’s something about a blanket, whether it’s warm or cold outside.
I like to sit in a wicker chair on the balcony outside our bedroom and listen to the birds in the trees. I also enjoy sitting in the leather chair in my office or on the wrought-iron loveseat with the cushion on the back patio. Sitting on a bench for a break while walking on trails gives me peace. Driving in the car with the seat heater on while listening to my favorite playlist works for me. Maybe that’s why I don’t have just one place.
I think everyone needs a concrete step, though, or maybe a few different steps. We all need spaces that let us take a moment to think, maybe even overthink, reflect, reminisce, or just sit and listen to the world around us.
Maybe it’s a favorite end of the couch, a bench along a trail, a quiet corner of the backyard, or a concrete step tucked between two buildings. The place itself probably matters less than what it gives us: a chance to pause before the next thing demands our attention.
I don’t know what draws that man to his step each morning, but I’m glad he has it. And the next time I see him sitting, I’ll probably smile a little, knowing that somewhere between arriving and leaving, between the work behind us and the work ahead, he’s found a place to simply be.
