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Tiny Love Stories: “We are not ready for real life”

My first message to you 44 years after high school: “I remember you. I had long, clean hair.” He told me about a car accident with a paralyzed lower body. We said that our wholeness is body independent. You wrote to me about making art, cooking, living in Mexico, your love for your son, and your enjoyable creativity after surgery. In December, you stopped messaging. It hurt me to know that you were dead. Then reread your last message about how we are connected in an invisible and mysterious way. What a gift, intimacy with you. — — Alice Hogan

After 13 years of marriage collapsed, I rented an apartment a few blocks from my parents’ home in Rome. Three days later, Italy was closed. I started a new life with other countries, worked in remote areas and spent time with my children. My division was the second most important thing that happened suddenly. As my wife and I worked on the pandemic, pain and regret lay down. Is it possible that the blockade is our friend? It may seem cruel, but we are not ready for real life. — — Federico Petlangerie

My grandmother Ruth was like a secret agent. Before her cell phone and the internet, she was secretly chasing her grandchildren. At the age of 23, I moved to Mexico to work at a resort. At last I was alone. One night while drinking with a colleague at a beach bar, a man from a nearby village came in and shouted my full name. When I answered, he marched towards me, “Your Abuela called each house in our village. I was chosen to find you in this message:’Gram. Love you. Call me.'”- Amy Gotriff

“It’s about time for green ginger wine.” We danced around the kitchen every Friday night, with our lover’s hands on his hips and his arms around his wife. We drank wine from the goblet as their toddler happily shouted at our feet. It took me a long time to admit to myself that sex with him no longer felt right and that I loved our lives with him more than my lover. When I broke up with him, I made friends with his wife and wondered if their children would remember me. — — Melanie Prior

Tiny Love Stories: “We are not ready for real life”

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