Tiny Love Stories: ‘An Idyllic Trip to Salvage Our Romance’
The New York Times
Modern Love in miniature, featuring reader-submitted stories of no more than 100 words.
There’s a stretch of Highway 17 that runs from Hardeeville, S.C., to Charleston, where raspberry-colored azalea bushes dot the road in spring, peach jam and boiled peanuts sit in stands in late summer, and Gullah artisans sell their sweetgrass baskets year-round. This span of highway also marks the geographical distance in my marriage. To bridge the expanse, Mike sends me early-morning emails; he has done this every day since we met nine years ago. When I read his messages, I think of us: Two people, two hours apart, awakening for the same love. — Deborah J. Cohan
My mother left to find herself when I was 6, and again when I was 12. The second time, she didn’t come back. My father raised me in Queens while she was in an ashram in Oregon. Only in recent years have my mother and I grown close. People ask me how I could ever forgive her, how my family can gather over the Shabbat dinner she cooks us every Friday. Maybe it’s because I never gave up wishing. Maybe it’s because I believe all of us can change. My life has taught me to expect and embrace the unexpected. — Ronit Plank
I heard a clink — actually, three. That’s what I most remember about the moment I fell in love for the first time. On a roller coaster in Ohio, 500 miles from my New York City home with someone I had known for only two months, I was terrified as we clink-clink-clinked toward the sky. Then I saw Michael smiling and heard an unexpected sound: the quiet roar of my 36-year-old heart finally letting go. He reached through the bars and took my hand. Gravity dropped us, but he held me still. — Mark Jason Williams
