Finding the Glimmers: Unexpected Moments with Unexpected People
March 24th, 2026
Writer: Isabel Rosenberg
Editor: Noa Chorowsky
Crowded kitchen tables were exactly the way I loved my Sundays to begin. As the youngest on both sides of my family, Sunday brunches packed with siblings, cousins, and their friends, boyfriends or girlfriends tagging along, were always the highlight of my week. I grew up accustomed to a house full of interruptions, introductions, and bustling energy. Surprising conversations with unexpected people were what I looked forward to most; each one felt like a glimmer, a shared moment of connection.
As the house grew older, and new creaks formed in the hardwood floor, we all grew older, too. Cousins moved away. Sisters left for college. Still, the tradition of open doors for Sunday brunch remained. The invite lists were smaller, though with fewer introductions to make and fewer guests to meet. Usually, it was just me, the only person under 40, surrounded by aunts, uncles, grandparents, and my parents. But it was during those quieter brunches, when I was squeezed between an uncle and an aunt, that I would encounter sparks of connection. They still flickered, just differently than before, sometimes in conversations about the joy of forging, and other times in debate about a new article in the New Yorker.
Once the leaves turned orange, the sisters, cousins, and older friends would return; however, they were never the same. Maybe it was a slight change in their accent – like my sister after her first semester studying in Montreal– a new perfume lingering in the air, or even just a recently acquired scarf, indicating they had been on an adventure. And just as quickly as they arrived, they would leave again. My parents, aunts, and uncles would be left wondering how we would ever grow used to their absence. Yet, somehow, as the weeks passed, we always did.
I couldn’t wait for college. I wondered how I would return. What would be different about me? I really hoped I might finally become a ring person, or simply that I might have an array of my own adventures to share.
Now, here I am at college. I am no longer the only person my age at any table, and AARP (the magazine for retired Americans) hasn’t come up in conversation (yet). I miss what I expected to miss: my sisters, cousins, home-cooked meals, and Sunday bagels. But I also miss the older adults in my life who grounded me. Their presence, their outlooks, and their experiences were something that I never realized just how lucky I was to have in my life.
The musical chairs of guests around the kitchen table at home have inspired me to continue seeking out unexpected conversations with unexpected people. Sometimes that means making a silly face while playing peek-a-boo with a crying baby in a coffee shop. Other times, it means stopping to pet a dog on my way to class. It is in these in-between moments that conversations start and smiles are shared. While the tailgates, nights out, and all the freshman-year firsts have left their mark on my college experience, they are undoubtedly not the only things defining it.
In a world that can feel incredibly overwhelming, it becomes important to seek out the small glimmers that surface each day, whether in your home with people you have known your whole life or in the streets of Ann Arbor with strangers. Though I no longer have family Sunday brunches to look forward to, I have found something else just as valuable: these moments of unexpected connection in which I feel most whole.
