After the snow had concealed the ground for almost six months, on the first day of spring when the ice melted, most people rushed to the Lower Field to soak up the sun for a sense of warmth, yet my first instinct was to go to Rue McTavish and lie on my favourite bench.
During my four-year degree course at McGill University, I spent most of the time on McLennan Library’s first floor writing essays or on Redpath’s second-floor catching up on my reading. The memories created in the libraries were often mixed with stress, tears, and anxiety. However, the McTavish bench is the only place on campus that is exclusively for happy memories.
In my freshman year, McTavish started to undergo construction. For most of my degree, the street looked like it could not look worse, then it did. In winter, it was covered with a large white tarp, while in summer it was just a grey-coloured mess. Students were used to the street being under construction for three years, and no one had imagined that after the big revamp the street would become an iconic location on the campus.
I still remember I discovered the bench on a breezy, sunny summer’s day in May. I was listening to music, with a cup of coffee in one hand and a book in the other, and it was love at first sight. Along Rue McTavish, there is a row of benches, but my favourite one is the bench next to the Morrice Hall and opposite of the SSMU building. The slightly reclined wooden bench is long and wide enough for people to stretch out their legs. It is located halfway up a slope leading to the Upper Field. People often walk by it when they are on their way to classes, rushing to the canteen for some food, or on their way home after school. Sometimes, therapy dogs would take a stroll near the benches along McTavish to cheer up the troubled university students.
In the autumn, when the maple trees turned orange pervading Mount Royal, and the benches were hidden amongst the great power of nature, I would sit on the bench alone and be submerged in the beauty of Montreal.
On summer nights, my best friend and I would go there to learn how to ride our pennyboards. Then we would usually give up trying to finetune our balancing skills, and instead we would talk about the future. We would joke about our bridesmaid dresses, gossip about our friends, imagine where we would be after graduation, and picture what the future would hold for us.
There was another time when I hung out with my friend on the bench after gifting her “The Little Prince”. I told her that people said this book should be read three times throughout one’s life – as a child, as an adolescent, and as an adult. Then we proceeded to discuss how a person’s perspective changes, and how we appreciate, perceive and interpret stories differently.
My favourite memory of the bench was on the day I announced to my friends that I would be taking a gap semester off from school. We teared up a bit because it all happened so suddenly, and they had just found out that I would be leaving the city the next day. On the bench, we shared memories that kept us grounded, we sang sappy goodbye songs and we happily danced to “Kiki do you love me” by Drake along McTavish. I remember looking up to the dark sky which was polluted by the city’s lights, thinking to myself that this is the memory of youth that I would hold dearly for the rest of my life.
It has been almost two years since I have sat on the McTavish bench. However, I am scared of revisiting it. I would like it to be sealed inside my head as perfect as it always has been, containing memories that are not contaminated by despair and reality. I wish my impression of the McTavish bench could be locked inside a snow globe that could keep it picturesque and beautiful forever.
Photos courtesy of Unsplash
