Last month, it was my university class's 10^th reunion. Ten. Whole. Years. I flew into Philadelphia, the city of brotherly love, for, well, some brotherly love. To see the faces of those beautiful souls with whom I shared my university journey. Those who could make it, of course. But even those who couldn't make it, I thought of them. As one dear friend later put it to me: "My heart is full". So was mine. And here we were, in flesh or in spirit, back at the campus of the University of Pennsylvania, a city within a city. But calling it a campus, while accurate, is an understatement. After all, for the better part of four years, this was not my campus. This was my home.

Our reunion not only coincided with this year's graduation ceremony, and its orbiting ring system of family and friends, but also with a weekend-long concert of none other than Taylor Swift – an event that had the entire city on party high alert. And in the midst of all this chaos, it was challenging to take inventory, let alone process, the sheer breadth and depth of emotion that filled the air.