My Only Advice
Recently, my 28-year-old daughter called me seeking counsel on the state of her love life: How do I know if the person I’m dating is “the one” for me? Should I settle for what I have now even though something feels off? Or should I keep searching for someone who “checks all the boxes”? With three marriages and three divorces behind me, I can only tell her this: My sorrowful and misguided love life led me to a relationship with her father, which resulted in her conception. And that I do not regret for one second. — Yvonne Herbst
Strangers in a Movie Theater
Winter was on its last legs when we saw “Creed III” alone, together. Waiting for the lights to dim in a crowded St. Louis movie theater, he said hello first. I said hi back and took him in: kind eyes, smooth skin, clean beard, warm smile. Whew! Side by side, we enjoyed the film, eventually exchanging numbers during closing credits. “You’ll never believe how we got here,” Jerome told me later. Turns out he’d swapped spots with a married couple whose original tickets had them seated separately. Years later, we honor our fateful “Creedversary” with another movie (this time sitting together intentionally). — Lyndsey Ellis
Capturing Mom’s Luscious Locks
Long before selfies and cellphones, my mother was always the lady behind the camera. A clunky Minolta dangled from her neck. Finding photographs of her for school projects was nearly impossible; she took so many pictures, but was rarely pictured. Landscapes didn’t interest her; friends and family were her favorite subjects. Determined to capture her countenance now, I scroll through silly Snapchat filters during her chemo sessions. Her favorite filters are exotic manes which replace locks she’s lost. “Look at all my hair,” she giggles, the filters blurring the background infusion bags. These candid snaps are our Grand Canyon moments. — Lisa Wiley
An Unusual Promise
I met a beautiful blue-eyed man on a Habitat for Humanity build in Hawaii. He was a carpenter; I was an amateur with too much enthusiasm for the nail gun. One day we sat outside and took in the lush landscape: mountains behind a field with a horse and a donkey. “What do you think,” he said, “You and me, a house, a couple of kids? I’ll buy you an ass.” This unusual wooing worked. That night we kissed for the first time. Many years later, not long before we married, he finally bought me the promised (stuffed animal) ass. — Jill Yonit Goldberg
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