Creative Nonfiction
1 min
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History Unexpected
Emma Tarnowsky
It's not the words etched into brick facades that define this place. Not the plaques tucked away with their micro-paragraphs about donors we rarely stop to read. You could even argue it's not the uniquely crafted sculptures scattered across campus that belong to the Broncos alone. So how do we, walking hand in hand toward that stage, agree that we share a history? Because it's made every day—within us and through us.
Those buildings, their names fixed on the outside, encircle a fountain where beaded droplets land softly on the skin of our college comrades—the same fountain is shaped like the one a girl inside Miller Auditorium just played her favorite song on.
Those hidden plaques sit among tropical plants with bursting buds, where a girl tends to them with care and her friend chats beside her on a damp wooden bench.
Those sculptures become the landmarks we text to our friends— "meet me there in ten"—so we can study outside beneath the peak of the spring sun.
Our home is built on a history of generosity and spaces to gather, but it's the spray of crystal water, the quiet growth of vines, and the simple joy of being together on a sunlit day that bind us—carrying our hope and history forward.
A Bronco Story. Submissions are from the Western Michigan University community.
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