Harold used to send me tiny messages after we were married, and he would conceal them in strange locations, like glove compartments, coffee filters, or even taped under the laundry detergent bottle. He would say, “Just in case you forget how loved you are.” It’s me reminding him now. Little slips were the first. Where he placed the car keys, names, and appointments. One day, he stopped speaking in the middle of a sentence and asked, “Wait… what’s your name again?” He had this perplexed, guilty expression as if he should have known, but it was hidden behind a barred…
Author: World Wide
It began as a joke. Salome remarked, “What if we invited Grandma?” while we were organizing a laid-back girls’ night—dessert, beverages, perhaps some bar hopping. We all chuckled. Then we really accomplished it. Grandma arrived in a knitted vest she won’t give up, bright earrings, and a butterfly shirt. She appeared somehow iconic and like a walking patchwork quilt. When we entered, many turned their heads. Initially, we believed we would only remain for one coffee and a piece of cake before respectfully bringing her home. But not. Grandma ordered a shot of something we couldn’t pronounce and a cappuccino.…
Initially, we all assumed it was a sort of show-and-tell shock. Calm as can be, he entered with a large golden retriever at his side, tail wagging as though it owned the place. The class fell silent. You could hear the confusion spread over the room like a silent wait, is this permitted? sort of buzz. The lad simply grinned and remarked, “This is Marley. He’s my closest buddy. The instructor didn’t even halt him. Just pointed to a calm area at the rear, and the two of them walked over as if it were any ordinary day. But this…
I had no intention of including her. My wife worked early, so I thought—why not? For just a short while. We’d stop by the station, greet the men, perhaps take a picture or two. Just in case the AC became too chilly, I packed her little pink jacket and a plush giraffe, her favourite snack. Her turning the main draw was what I least expected. Every police within ten feet dropped what they were doing the second we entered. “Look who’s reporting for duty!”, someone shouted, and just like that, she was part of the squad. Within minutes, my sergeant,…
It began with a cry I assumed was from fear—but when I raced out to the garden, my kid was crouched in the mud, grinning as though he had just found treasure. Mother! See what I discovered! He murmured as though it were a secret just for us. This chubby black-and-white rabbit lay curled behind one of the tomato plants. No collar, no cage close by, simply sitting there as though waiting for someone to see it. I assumed it was someone’s runaway pet, but before I could speak, my kid softly picked it up as though he had been…
The ham wasn’t even cut yet. My son was halfway through concealing the last plastic egg behind the couch and my daughter had only started laying the table with tiny paper rabbit napkins. Then my phone started ringing. I didn’t even have to respond to it to find out. Before I spoke, my wife immediately nodded and looked at me. She understands. She always does. I kissed them all fast—one on the head, one on the cheek, one silent promise I’d return shortly. Before the guilt could catch up to me, I grabbed my bag, zipped up my equipment, and…
Believe it or not, it began in the hospital room. Swaddled like a burrito, our son was barely a few hours old, eyes still learning about the world. There was my husband, sitting on the side of the bed with his phone propped up on a box of wipes, softly play-by-play Sunday game commentary as if the baby was his little co-host. I rolled my eyes at the moment, but also? It was quite nice. It has been their thing ever since. Sundays are holy for football. Whether it’s preseason, regular season, or some arbitrary rerun, those two are side-by-side…
Every morning begins with the same phrase: “Okay, today I’m the chef and you’re the helper, deal?” He is four. Cannot read recipes. Still calls it “spuh-sketti” and believes ketchup to be a gourmet sauce. But what about the confidence? First class. Gordon Ramsay standards. Apron on, sleeves rolled up, attitude set. I gave him a play kitchen, expecting him to prod at it for a week. Now it is essentially his restaurant. Me? Fake cupcakes cooling on the shelf and plastic vegetables in the sink. I get pushed around as if on his salary. Leave that alone; it’s hot!…
We just spent five minutes in the bank. Five While I used the ATM in the lobby, I advised my kid to remain nearby. He was in one of those moods—curious, wiggly, asking questions about everything from ceiling fans to how money “comes out of the wall.” Before I know it, I look back and he’s full-on talking up two California Highway Patrol cops behind a table near the front entrance like they’re his long-lost uncles. At first I worried, prepared to apologize for his troubling them, but before I could even intervene, one of the cops crouched down to…
