Strange Delight for a Stranger
We matched on Tinder in April 2020. Both quarantined alone, 2,500 miles and 25 years apart. She texts, “Do you want to see some pictures?” Pictures? Sure. Her suggestive selfies and dancing videos delight me for a month. Curiously, she never asks for anything in return. She writes, “Going back to work, not taking my clothes off anymore.” We continue text messaging our hopes, fears and family drama. We laugh and cry. Both searching for love. Years pass. She writes, “Found a good man!” Later, “Expecting a child!” She’s happy and I’m strangely happy for her. Thanks Tinder? — Steve Wruble
Because of You
Only 29. Young, healthy, gone in an instant. I hope you didn’t see the car coming. Didn’t feel pain. I can only imagine the grief of those who lost you. But because of you, I have a husband. My children, a father. His parents, a son. I feel your essence beating in my husband. Did you love ice cream? A new craving has arisen in Dave. He eats it every day in your honor. A sweet tooth and a sweet soul. Rest in peace, dear one. And thank you. — Breene Wesson
Love in All Caps
My father signed off messages in all caps, exactly how he loved me. This was clear to everyone who visited his auto shop. His office was a shrine: photos of us in Italy, at Sharks games, me in various skating costumes, printouts of my resumes and every job offer letter I ever received. I used to be embarrassed by this public display, but today I appreciate it: He was proud, in all caps. He’s gone, so I no longer receive messages with his signature sign-off, “LU DAD.” Now it’s mine to say in remembrance: LOVE YOU, DAD. — Alexandra Provo
Lucky Number 23
I couldn’t find a place to park and was increasingly late for our date. I called, explained and he said to park behind his building and walk up the fire escape. Greg leaned over the railing and his blue eyes hit me like a ton of bricks. I fell hard. He’d just gotten out of a relationship and was having 30 dates in 30 days. I was number 23. I figured I would just be the rebound boyfriend. But 26 years, a cross-country move, a wedding and five dogs later, Greg is sleeping peacefully — upstairs. — Seth A. Thayer
