The Meaning of My Rings
She twirls the rings on my fingers as we snuggle in bed. Newly 4 and full of questions, my daughter seeks to know the world. “Mommy, why do you wear these rings?” We move effortlessly through her birthstone, my engagement and wedding rings. But how to explain the other three gold bands? Each is a marker of a pregnancy lost, embryos that didn’t grow. These are the siblings I dreamed for you, the babies I longed to hold. Someday we’ll grapple with loss, but today, I share a simple truth: These rings, my darling girl, they are all about love. — Christine Elizabeth Chernikoff
When My Son Jumped Ship
I told Patrick he’d love white water rafting, but his cries of terror made it clear I was wrong. Everyone wanted to convince Patrick, the only kid on a raft of adults, that rafting was capital “F” Fun. He tried to be brave, but after a particularly massive rapid, he reached for our guide. “Sir, you are going to let me off this boat. Now.” I’ve never been prouder of my son than at that moment, when he honored his truth despite the disappointment it caused; fighting against the tide with his small, clear voice that demanded to be heard. — Rebecca Anne Nguyen
Finding Love on LinkedIn
Summer 2022, I interned at a Manhattan law firm that had an event at a Midtown karaoke bar. I noticed the bartender immediately. We flirted all night and even sang together (Lady A, “Need You Now”) but didn’t exchange names or numbers. Armed with only the name of the law firm, Emma found me on LinkedIn and messaged. We went on several dates but had just 10 days before I had to return to North Carolina to finish law school. Today? I walk from my law firm to Emma’s karaoke bar, so we can ride the D train home together. — Chelsea Garber
A Sister’s Second Chance
Until the spring of sixth grade, my daily routine included brushing my teeth and reminding my disabled younger sister that she and her all-consuming disease ruined my life: my parents’ limited attention, the missed trips, the way others stared. Then one day, the seizures wouldn’t stop and Olivia went into a coma. On nights in the I.C.U., I tried but couldn’t remember the last time I told her I loved her. Weeks passed until, one day, she woke up. And I had a second chance. I wonder how many sisters out there are given that. — Julianne Reid
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