A Midnight Menace
“I didn’t sleep a wink,” my sister commented over morning coffee after we had shared a hotel bed while traveling. “You toss and turn a lot.” “Really?” I wondered. Her comment provoked me to ask my husband, Bill, what it’s like to sleep beside me. “Well, you move a lot and can be dangerous,” he admitted. “When I sleep facing you, I’m careful to keep my arm in a position to guard my head and my leg in a position to protect my groin.” We’ve shared a bed for 30 uncomplaining years. I marveled at Bill’s silent (and long-suffering) love. — Diane Marie Hunter
Natural Renewal
By the time I left an emotionally, verbally and physically abusive relationship, I didn’t recognize myself. Acne covered my perpetually puffy face; my naturally thick ponytail had thinned significantly from stress. On my first date with Sheila, stubby baby hairs were sticking straight up out of my part, growing anew. Today, panic still rises when my imperfections show, but Sheila remains patient, kind and loving. One night, while admiring the speed at which a small but deep cut on my finger had scabbed over, she turned to me and whispered: “It’s amazing isn’t it? How your body wants to heal.” — Emma Kikue Munson
Never Medium
“How would you like your steak?” the server asked my son, Teddy. Teddy is 17, loves a good rib-eye and has Down syndrome. “Medium?” the server suggested. “Large,” Teddy emphatically replied, much to both of our delight. I used to grieve the ways my son might not know the “right” answers in life. But now, I have a more expansive and joyful definition of what’s right. My son helps me order up the world “large.” — Hannah Heck
Organized in Life and Death
After my mother died, my sister Mary was stunned when she found a collection of nine envelopes and cards, each labeled with “High School” or “College” and the names of Mom’s many grandchildren. Mary distributed the cards, containing $100 or $200 cash, to the nine grandchildren who graduated after Mom’s death. My sister presented the last card to the youngest grandchild, her own son, in 2018 — 16 years after Mom left us. As with all the cards, the inscription was “Love, Nonna.” — Barbara Baldoni
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