Tiny Love Stories: ‘I wore an orange wig’
A rare opportunity
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 traveling there and back in the car, I held out my hand to say goodbye. My oldest always saves the biggest news for the last minute. “Do you know how you have two sons?” asked my child looking at my face. “Now you have a daughter and a son.” Confusion and questions swirled around me. But only one response mattered. I held my daughter tight and called my child by her new name, Katy. — Linda Button
A sign at sea
I carry my husband’s ashes everywhere I go. René was my true love and partner. After his death, fellow nurses convinced me to go to NurseCon, where 3,000 nurses take a cruise for fun and education. The last evening there was a party with the theme “Glow”. I wore an orange wig. Laser lights and neon sparkled all around me. I scattered some of Rene’s ashes in the ocean. In the morning I woke up 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
My father’s many lessons
It was Wednesday evening around dinner time when the phone rang. It was my father, Leo. Without any preamble, he said, “I’m sorry for everything I’ve done.” I said, “It’s okay.” Then we talked about the weather, which I was making for dinner. Then we said goodbye. We never spoke of this conversation again. I don’t know what prompted his call, but I do know this: My father taught me to drive without a license, smoke cigarettes, and ignore my mother. But by God, that night he also taught me about forgiveness. — Helena Rosenthal
Hold everything
In December, my husband and I filed an Everest-tall stack of adoption papers, along with a video that captured our (hopefully) solid parenting potential. “The waiting period ranges from six months to two years,” said the social worker assigned to our application. “So, plan that trip to Europe now.” She was funny, but her point was clear: take advantage of this time while you have it. Six weeks later, we were in the NICU with our little son, Hayes, in his crib. No baby shower, no nursery, no trip to Europe. But in our arms we held everything. — Amy Pengra button