Tiny Love Stories: ‘I Love Drama’

After I fell down the stairs as a toddler, I became very timid. Hoping to expand my comfort zone, my parents signed me up for a baby gymnastics class, enlisting my grandfather to take me. Week after week, he sat with me on the sidelines. I never got the courage to join the group, and he never pushed me. As good as it feels to grow, sometimes it feels better to know someone accepts you just as you are. I’m still fairly timid as an adult. My grandpa passed last year, but I carry the feeling of his unconditional love. — Sam Aboody

We matched on an app when I was visiting California. Our first date was over FaceTime once I was home in Massachusetts. It felt like a throwback to early pandemic dating: wine, computer screen, banter about horror films. We kept it up for weeks, video dates that almost erased the distance. I love how the gay people I know date: We go out once and it can feel flirty, thrum with possibility, forever. But we had to face facts. He lives there; I live here. It won’t work out, but we’ll keep in touch, maybe trading some Halloween memes. — Michael Colbert

When you were born, I looked for the resemblance of my eyes, my mouth, even the birthmark under my eyebrow. “He doesn’t look as much like you as I thought he would,” some family members say. Their words are an echo, decades later, of what my mother heard when her half-Japanese baby’s dark hair didn’t match her own blonde strands. No, you are not a mini-me. But when you grow up, I hope you’ll see more than what the world sees and supposes of you — to the generations, scattered across continents, that made you. — Hayley Igarashi

In 1978 my husband and I were heading to the Metropolitan Opera when we had a passionate argument. I tore our opera tickets into tiny pieces and threw them to the ground. We reconciled, gathered up the ticket remnants and headed to the Met. The lady at the ticket counter sent us to the manager. After we explained what had happened, he exclaimed, “I love drama!” and replaced our tickets with far better ones. After 42 years of marriage we don’t remember what the opera or the fight were about, but we will never forget that act of kindness. — Amy Kornik

Sumber: www.nytimes.com