Tenderness in Three Minutes or Less
I love my husband, Igael, and like to show him attention, but what can I say? I’m busy! I’m a practicing physician and the president and chief executive of NYC Health & Hospitals, the nation’s largest municipal health care system. I also have two children and a futile desire to die with perfect abs. So there’s little time to be affectionate. That’s where our microwave comes in. In the 90 seconds it takes to warm coffee or the three minutesto heat dinner, I find my husband, then hug and kiss him. In our family this is known as “microaffection.” — Mitchell Katz
Suspended in Love
He was my world and I his avid explorer. He was a swimmer in high school. I never learned how to swim but loved the water. Off the Panamanian coast, he taught me how to float. We cooked Creole food, followed the open road and made incisions in our palms, letting our blood mix into the Mississippi River to consecrate our love and honor our respective Southern ancestors. Our disharmony was equally passionate. After an ultimatum, our two-year relationship ended on Juneteenth. My greatest lesson was that I am capable of giving and receiving love. That is my sweet liberation. — Cleola Payne
Babushka’s Luck
“You’re protected on your path,” the psychic said, “by an ancestral matriarchal presence.” I nodded. “That’s my grandma.” Babushka Dina died a few months prior. I had no doubt she would protect me from over yonder — why wouldn’t she? “Good luck,” she’d say when I’d tell her something inane on the phone, such as, “I have to go to the store.” “Good luck!” she’d respond wholeheartedly in her Brooklyn-Yiddish accent. “But why, ‘good luck,’ Babushka? I’m only going to Foodtown.” “You always need luck,” she’d insist. “Luck is always good to have.” And now, she is my luck. — Jesse Kanzer
Not a Perfect ‘Moom’
When my younger son was in kindergarten, he wrote me love notes. One said, “I love my moom.” Fine spelling for a 5-year-old. Back then, I was confident in my mothering. But recently, I’ve been doubting myself. Am I too quick to anger? Too focused on my career? Am I leading my sons to happy futures? Reassurance arrived in a poetry collection my older son wrote. He dedicated the book to me, noting that I am an author and someone he appreciates. I realized that motherhood is not about being perfect, but loving wholly while pursuing your own passions. — Anita Jari Kharbanda
