Last night as I waited in the dark out on North University for my bus I noticed how the street lamps on campus were shining amid the deeply colored leaves of fall.  The trees looked beautiful lit up that way, leaves turning in the cool autumn wind.  And then I noticed a flag attached to the nearest light pole, hanging just above my head.  It said “150 years of Chemistry at Michigan.”  I smiled as it reminded me that Dad had graduated from Michigan with a degree in chemical engineering just over 50 years ago, and the sign over his head might have said “100 years of Chemistry at Michigan.”  But they probably didn’t have such things in those days. 

As I’m thinking about this I realize that I’m across the street from the bell tower where Mom went to music school, standing under a sign and near the old chemistry building where Dad went to school.  Sometimes it feels overwhelming, but I was startled to find my cheek wet.  Tears?  I didn’t feel sad so tears would have surprised me.  No, not tears.  It had just begun to spit a cold October rain.