That’s one way to propose
Although they knew we lived together, my parents did not allow Michael and me to sleep under their roof together. This irritated Michael. After Christmas, he let my father sit down and told us to drop the puppet show since we were practically married already. I peered nearby and stretched to hear my father’s answer. He said, “You don’t buy a house with a handshake.” That night on the train back to New York, my father’s words rang out with simple logic that stunned us. I turned to Michael and said, “Well, how about that?” That was our proposal. We got married within three weeks. † Donna Moriarty
Her beautiful words
She came back into my life when I bought my flat, when my mother refused and then died. So many emotions swirl through my head and heart. An eager friend, she extended a sense of promise along with her proclamations, “I’m yours, are you mine?” “I have found what I want.” “It was never my intention to hurt you.” Until it started to unravel – again. She explained that she is a “free spirit” (selfish?), “mercurial” (Gemini?), and that “this” was my fault. Now I am reclaiming my heart, mind, apartment – all the spaces that she polluted with her beautiful words. † Julia Armagnac Maher
What is the connection?
It was 2am when my date rocked me. So I did something I’d never done before: I went to a nightclub alone. I chose “Cucko” because it was the only nightclub in Pôrto Alegre, Brazil that accepted my meal voucher. There I saw a drunk girl who was about to pass out and decided to help. Her friend Melissa also came to help her. What’s the connection between a botched date, a bold decision, a meal voucher, and a drunk stranger? No. Except that her friend Melissa and I have been together for seven years now. Thank you, universe. † Diego Basso
thanks dad
My father remains the person I call even when I’m 30 with the slightest medical concerns. When I started absently scratching the sensitive side of my wrist and discovered an unusually colored fringe, I sounded the alarm and texted my dad a photo of the bulbous ulcer. Within seconds, his answer lit up my phone, “I’ll look into it tonight.” His words confirmed my fear, but lacked urgency. “I’m afraid I’m going to die,” I typed back, hoping to increase his concern. The three little dots danced across my screen. Then his amusing, dry consolation: “Eventually you will.” † Lauren Flaker