The One I Saved
Jack told me about his heroin addiction in a handwritten 12-step apology letter. It was so painful to read, I threw it in the trash. I’d only known that his cocaine habit destroyed us when we were living together. Over the years, I feared tracking him down. Would he be homeless? Worse? Three decades later, camping alone in Florida, I remembered him showing me how to erect a tent and cook outdoors. I sent an email to an old address, to say thanks. I heard back! Jack was sober, serene. Signed: “Fondly, and always with love.” That note I saved. — Diane Daniel
An Image of Everything
As I draft a social media post to commemorate your fifth birthday, a mental montage plays: you wiggling chubby legs against a changing table; you laughing your first laugh — pure, precious, mellifluous. In the present reality, you’re donning an Owlette costume in Home Depot (fire-red mask, wings). Meanwhile, I’m fumbling on my phone to string together a caption expressing what five years of you means to me (everything), to convey half a decade of moments that passed like sifted sand. I give up, look up and see you — wingspan spread, soaring confidently down Aisle 9, red wings receding into distance. — Abigail Wasserman
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The post Tiny Love Stories: ‘I Saw a Beautiful Man Captivating the Room’ appeared first on New York Times.
