Back on Land
After years of trying for another baby, I couldn’t stop thinking about Florida’s Weeki Wachee mermaids — women undulating underwater in bright tails and fixed lipstick. My husband saw how grief had hollowed me out and told me to go. So I left our family vacation in Gulf Shores, Ala., drove six hours alone in a rented minivan to watch the show, then skipped the hotel I’d booked and drove back that same day. When it ended, all I wanted was my husband and daughter. I left looking for a miracle. Instead, I came home to the two I already had. — Bethany O’Brien
The Sweet Sound of 87 Notifications
Sarah and I met in Louisville, Ky., through music. She played the violin; I played the guitar. After two years dating and making music together, Sarah gave me a ride to the airport. In the car, I told her I had been reading “the best book” but had to leave it behind. When I got to the gate, my phone began incessantly dinging. Sarah had taken pictures of the book’s remaining 87 pages so I could finish it. I laughed and got teary-eyed with each notification. The book was “the best,” but to be loved by Sarah is even better. — Debra Graf
The Path to Them
I drive through the tunnel that leads into San Francisco Chinatown, and I see it, the unmistakable Pepto-Bismol-pink facade of 907 Stockton Street, the exact shade it was more than 40 years ago. “That’s it, boys,” I say to my 13-year-old twins, “where we lived when we first came to America.” They take it in, the rusted fire escape, the row of broken mailboxes. They are silent for a moment. Then, Owen says, “I’m glad for our house.” And Sam says, “You had a hard childhood.” “Yeah,” I reply, “but it got me to you.” — Dorothy Chin
A New Photo Album
My mother stopped reading the travel section of the newspaper after my father got Alzheimer’s. She realized they would no longer be able to travel the world together. Instead, they journeyed through photo albums, revisiting vacations and trips with the grandkids. After my father died, I asked my mother where she wanted to go. I figured she’d say London or Paris, someplace easy for an 84-year-old to navigate. “African safari!” she said. So the four of us — my husband, our son, my mom and I — went off to South Africa to create new memories. — Karen Siff Exkorn
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