Two Unexpected Questions
Finding love as a single Jewish mother of four in North Carolina seemed too high an order. My doctor asked, “Why aren’t you having sex anymore?” I responded, “It is easy to find someone I want to sleep with, harder to find someone I want to wake up with.” That very night my friend asked me to join him on the beach for sunrise. I did. For four mornings in a row. Unbrushed teeth, coffee in hand, hours talking. Realizing we found the person we wanted to wake up with, we tried sleeping together, too. Love arose, surprising us both. — Michaux Myles Shaffer
A Lavender Envelope
Two years after I moved to America as a young bride, my father died unexpectedly. I flew back to India in shock. Coincidentally, I would be spending my birthday in my childhood home, but there was little reason to celebrate without my father there. After completing all the funereal rituals, I returned to California, painfully hollow. The next day, I opened the mail to find a lavender envelope with Indian stamps — a birthday card my father had posted two days before he passed, bringing me his love and blessings. — Miera Rao
Home With a Warning Label
“I warned you,” I said impassively as we sat in my father’s suburban backyard. I had never brought a boyfriend home before. My partner, Tom, was understandably alarmed by the screams emanating from the house. My stepmother and her then-100-year-old mother were tearing into each other, opening familiar wounds. I was inured to the fighting. Tom wasn’t. They say: When you marry someone, you marry their family. Tom’s family was wonderful. Mine was turbulent. Would he stay after this? “I warned you,” I said again pensively. It’s been 21 years together, eight married. Tom stayed despite the chaos. — Steven Fisher
A Magical Box of Chocolate
When I was given a box of chocolates from my favorite store, I swore I’d enjoy every morsel instead of surrendering to my usual urge to devour them all. I’d bite off a corner and let it melt in my mouth. On rare occasions I’d nibble an entire piece. I bragged to my husband about my newfound self-control. But after weeks, I wondered, how could they possibly be lasting this long? Turns out: My husband had hidden an identical box and had been secretly replenishing my stash, all in an effort to have my ego and sugar-filled pleasure last. — Judith Benjamin
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