Tiny Love Stories: ‘I Wore an Orange Wig’

My oldest child and I drove from Massachusetts to New Hampshire to visit my father, who had suffered a stroke. It gave us a rare chance to catch up. After five hours of round trip travel in the car, I reached over to say goodbye. My eldest always saves the biggest news for the last moment. “You know how you have two sons?” my child asked, watching my face. “Now you have a daughter and son.” Confusion and questions swirled inside me. But only one response mattered. I held my daughter tightly, calling my child by her new name, Katy. — Linda Button

I carry my husband’s ashes with me wherever I travel. Rene was my true love and partner. After his death, fellow nurses convinced me to attend NurseCon where 3,000 nurses take a cruise for enjoyment and education. The last night there was a “Glow”-themed party. I wore an orange wig. Laser lights and neon sparkled all around me. I sprinkled some of Rene’s ashes into the ocean. In the morning, I woke to a text from a friend who said she had dreamed of Rene, surrounded by lights and lots of people. She said, “He was happy.” — Laurie Beauchemin

A screenshot of my friend’s text to me after the “Glow” party.

It was a Wednesday night around dinnertime when the phone rang. It was my father, Leo. Without any prelude, he said, “I am sorry for anything I might have done.” I said, “It’s OK.” Then we talked about the weather, what I was making for dinner. Then we said goodbye. We never spoke about this conversation again. I don’t know what prompted his call, but I do know this: My father taught me how to drive without a license, to smoke cigarettes and to ignore my mother. But by God, that night, he also taught me about forgiveness. — Helene Rosenthal

In December, my husband and I submitted an Everest-high stack of adoption documents along with a video capturing our (hopefully) solid parenting potential. “The wait is anywhere from six months to two years,” said the social worker assigned to our application. “So, plan that trip to Europe now.” She was being facetious, but her point was straightforward: Take advantage of this time while you have it. Six weeks later, we sat in the NICU cradling our tiny son, Hayes. No baby shower, no nursery, no trip to Europe. But in our arms, we held everything. — Amy Pengra Button

Sumber: www.nytimes.com