Dear Readers,

One of my earliest, fondest memories is sitting with my dad in the kid’s section of Barnes & Noble, collecting four or five Mr. Men and Little Miss books from a spindly shelf, and listening to the tenor of his voice tumble over the pages. My mom was the one who introduced me to the Grimms’ fairy tales—these new worlds of thistle and thorn, where straw could be spun into gold and brothers flung into raven-form. These were precious gifts to me. I wanted to keep reading forever, and to be forever read to as well. To share a story and have it cling to us like a stubborn, shimmering mist. And cling they do, even now, blending in with the new poem a friend recommends, song lyrics my roommates and I sing at the top of our lungs, and lovely post- articles from a community I so deeply cherish. What magic: stories shapeshifting as they’re shared, all these voices collecting inside of us.

In this special Family Weekend issue, our writers also share their stories of community and communion. In A&C, Alyssa explores the gift of reciprocity and shared art, from arancini to handmade jewelry to scrapbooks, while Ellie delves into the storied history of Japan’s mountains. Lifestyle writer Yana travels the (train) tracks of reunions and reminiscings—from Astoria, Queens, to Providence, RI. Meanwhile, Liv explores the beauty of found families, much like an eclectic but cozy collection of items at an estate sale. In Narrative, Danielle dives into the shared experience of learning to swim, then dive, and Samaira writes about making Brown feel like home. This week’s Feature, by Dolma, invites us to gather around as she details the ways windowsills are ledges of community, including back home in Amdo, Tibet. In post-pourri, Jessica shares a fun quiz to help you and your loved ones find the perfect Family Weekend itinerary. Finally, don’t miss AJ’s “beary familiar” crossword as you bask in the spirit of Bruno, Brown/RISD, and Providence this weekend!

I hope that you, dear reader, are surrounded by community as you read these stories—whether family who have traveled far, or friends you hold close. A warm welcome also to said family and friends of the post- community: We hope you enjoy your stay within these post- pages and around our campuses.

Nothing makes me sentimental like a good story. I carry the stories I love like the sound of my parents wishing me goodnight, letting them wash over, slow and over and over again. The best of them though, are ones told to me deep in the mouth of night, or unfolded with the magical words of “I think you’d like this,” or written by a mycelial network of love, connected together by this sweet little magazine, crawling, clinging, misting softly over all of us. So maybe nothing makes me sentimental like a good story, and good friends to read them with. I have this magazine to thank for both. Happy reading, post- family.

Clinging on,
Emilie Guan
Editor-in-Chief