Life Circles Back
A nightly routine, beginning in kindergarten: I laid in bed, asking my mom, “What are we going to do today?” Not understanding when today becomes tomorrow. She drew circles on my back, detailing each activity in a singsong play-by-play as I fell asleep. Even as a teenager, I’d sometimes ask for “circles.” I now crawl under the covers next to my partner of three years, asking her to give me “circles” after long, draining days — like when I was laid off three months into my dream job. Jackie obliges, her circles reassuring me that life always comes back around. — Melanie Rosenblatt
Living Out Our Fantasies
On our first date, I laughed so hard that my bra’s clasp popped open. Later that night at my flat, I said, “This is just a fantasy for you, isn’t it? Older woman. Asian.” “I could say the same for you. Younger guy …” “Italian,” we said at the same time, laughing. I was 47. He was 29. “Shall we see what happens when two fantasies collide?” he asked, coaxing me with a kiss. When one date turned into too many to count, he told me, “Maybe now we know what happens when two fantasies come together. They become real.” — Ana P. Santos
“Was I a Good Mother?”
The phone rang at 2 a.m. My 89-year-old mother, lost in an Alzheimer’s fog, asked, “Was I a good mother?” “The best,” I lied. The truth was she was a terrible parent. My mother struggled with severe mental illness from a young age. For someone who was often suicidal, living into old age seemed like fate’s cruel joke. Yet Alzheimer’s has brought gifts. Her mind finally at peace, she delights in simple pleasures: the color of leaves, wind in her hair — and me. She beams when I visit, exclaiming, “This is my daughter. I love her.” — Nancy Glazer Pearl
Breaking Bread With Bucky
“Want to break some bread?” Turning from the window, I see a colleague who goes by Bucky at my desk. I refuse to use the nickname — he’s not 6 after all — but I can’t remember his given name. “What?” I say, sharper than I should have. “Break bread, get lunch,” he replies. Again, I lost track of time while staring out the window, the tornado that is my mind busy with my weaselly ex, coked-up psycho boss, wretched career choices and the possibility of disappearing to Tahiti. I nod yes and my life is forever better. — Deborah Fratter
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