Dad, are you going to school?” my son asked. Oxford wasn’t just a campus—it was a crucible of unlearning and rebirth. Collegiate life at 40 is not what I expected.

It wasn’t the bow ties or champagne towers that lingered. It was the glance across candlelight, the weight of tradition, and the silent music of belonging. Oxford balls are rituals in velvet.

They debated like poets, challenged like monks, and comforted like old friends. We weren’t just students...we were seekers. This is where we found each other.

There were no right answers. Just better questions. That’s how Oxford taught me to think, unlearn, and reimagine myself in a thousand new ways.