Young, Hungover and at Home With Each Other
The summer before 9/11, we were in Brooklyn — broke, sunstruck, hating our jobs, dreaming big, both aspiring artists. Most nights ended with fried chicken at an East Village gay bar. That’s what led to this photo, taken after an all-nighter, on a bench in Tompkins Square Park. Josh, my gay best friend, gave me safety, humor and the kind of platonic queer love I didn’t yet know how to name. We’ve lived through abuse, heartbreak, a studio fire, family deaths and cross-country moves — and we still talk daily. People don’t say it enough: A gay bestie can save your life. — William J. O’Brien
Owen and the Dragon
I met my husband, Owen, at a party. We were both wearing St. George and the Dragon medallions — and took this to be a sign. Owen was brilliant but self-absorbed. I worked hard but was self-lacerating. Once, Owen joked: If he died in a car accident, I’d respond, “It’s my fault.” But if I died the same way, he’d reply, “Who’s Carole?” We both laughed; it was slightly true. We split after seven years. Recently, Owen died. I was moved to be included in his will. Owen hadn’t forgotten me, and I knew his death was not my fault. — Carole Levin
Watching Daddo’s Feet
My father was a busy man in our small Texas town, home just long enough to straighten his tie. I’d gotten used to it; my nephew hadn’t. As a baby, he’d come to live with us, his own father’s absence palpable. Around age 2, my nephew noticed that if my father came home and took off his shoes, he intended to stick around. So he watched my father’s feet in a way I no longer did. “Take your shoes off, Daddo,” he’d entreat. “Take your shoes off,” he’d repeat. Hearing his grandson’s plea, sometimes he would drop everything and agree. — Reid Daniels
When a Ritual Ends
Grandma had poor eyesight so she sat at the front of the living room to watch TV. Like many illiterate Cantonese born in the 1940s, she couldn’t understand Mandarin, the language spoken in most Chinese TV shows. Therefore, Grandpa would join her at the front of the living room to interpret the dialogue. Grandma would nod gently as Grandpa spoke, smiles spreading softly on both their faces. They watched TV this way every night for decades, until Grandma passed away 12 years ago. Grandpa has never sat at the front of the living room to watch TV again. — Yifeng Troy Cai
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