“To the lady who told the cashier at Aldi I had a fake baby and was trying to smuggle yogurts out of the store: 1) My baby is 100% real. 2) Yogurts are like 25 cents. 3) I’m lactose intolerant and don’t consume dairy. Thank you for the laugh, though. I really needed it because I was up all night tending to my again, 100% real, baby. Parenting is hard enough; the judgement of strangers is not needed.”
“He found his old journal. ‘I threw it away. It made me sad to see who I was when I came to you.’ Both our eyes filled with tears. ‘It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know how to trust me.’ He slayed my heart, thanking me for dinner on a random Tuesday night. ‘I’m just so thankful I will have a meal each night,’ he said. I couldn’t even lift my head to look him in the eyes. He became worried he’d said something wrong.”
“When anxiety rears its ugly head, everything can look perfect. But all of a sudden, normal things feel like end-of-the-world things. Dirty dishes a mountain, laundry a tsunami, fighting kids a start of the third world war, bills are the crash of the stock market, relationship issues are the end of me having friends. Even though you can CLEARLY see it’s not, for me, that’s what the world feels like. You, my friend, can help me. You can love me in that space.”
“I want to pretend you’re in the other room, so I’ll even call your name. I want to taste it on my lips again. You fought, though. You fought so hard. But then you got so tired of fighting. The scars on my knees are a painful reminder of how I wouldn’t accept defeat with your last breath.”
“I came up from behind, put my arms around my wife, turned her around, and did one of those dramatic dip kisses. She laughed as I pulled her back up. It was then that I could feel someone watching us.”
“This woman is my hero. I don’t know who she is, but she gave me the strength I needed today.”
“I love you, my long lost almost mother… My love for you IS unconditional, but your presence in my life is not. All I know, is that it hurts less when I am away. I know you hurt, and I hurt too. My plan was never to hurt you, or get revenge. However, I could not keep accepting your rejection.”
“10 years ago, my son died. I’ve never talked about it with anyone but my wife. It’s taken 10 years to realize I want to talk about it all the time. Public talk of grief is very, very weird. It’s all ‘sorry for your loss’ and tilted heads, cards with calligraphy and whispering. We’re on tiptoes all the time. But grief is not one thing. It’s not just sadness. It’s a galaxy of emotions put in orbit by the loss of someone you loved.”
“I can still smell the pungent cleaner that room smelled so strongly of. My gut told me he wasn’t telling me something. I immediately saw red. Oh the tears I cried. Nothing can prepare you for news like that, nothing. I wanted to protect her. She was perfect.”
“As my wife looked at his little face, she asked me to hand her a wet washcloth. Confused, I then watched as she began to softly dab his little dried up lips. She nurtured and cared for our little boy’s fragile body. I have so much gratitude to this woman. How strong she is. Not only did she say hello to our son for the first time, but soon, she was going to be forced to say goodbye. The thought haunted me.”
