My place is the sundial in Denver, Colorado. The sundial was built long before I was born, though it looks the same every year. There seems to be an unspoken rule in my neighborhood to take care of the sundial – it is the child of our neighborhood. The reddish stone that makes up the sundial feels rough and stale, but not weak at all. Its natural smell makes it seem like it belongs in the mountains, however, it is located in an urban part of town. It is centered in the middle of a park, and that is by no mistake; it is the heart of the park.

The sundial feels is like a sanctuary to me not only because I live down the street from it, but also because it never changes. It is the most dependable thing in the world to me. It always reads the correct time of day, and more importantly, it never moves. Various times throughout the year it is buried under snow, struck by hail or even burned by the Colorado summer heat. However, the stone that creates the foundation of the sundial is so strong, that these weather conditions do no harm. If anything they make it stronger, it feeds off of hardship. The flowers around it come and go, the houses become larger and nicer over the years, but the sundial does not change.

The sundial has been my lifelong teacher. It sounds silly because it is an inanimate object, but it has taught me a lot – be strong and be there for the people that count on you. A couple of years ago, a group of people lobbied to tear the sundial down so they could renovate the area in order to create social part of the neighborhood.