Introducing Uncle Jay
My daughter's birthday falls three days after my late brother's. Every July, as I hang lanterns and fill gift bags, pain courses through me. My daughter is 6 years old and doesn't know she should have an Uncle Jay. He was nine years younger than me, a child I cared for, adored, and ultimately failed to save from untreated schizophrenia and suicide. I thought that talking to you about him would only convey pain. But pain is not the whole story of his life or our bond. Soon I will tell my daughter about my brother, trusting that I too will be able to pass on the love to him. — Ashley Womble
'Stable as the sun'
I called my high school friends, Anvi and Ashwini, in the throes of hiccups over nothing, a PMS spiral that seemed stupidly huge. Now roommates, they both worked from home. Twenty minutes later, they were at my door. No questions, just action: They got me out of bed, put me in shoes, and took me out to buy ice cream. We relaxed on the grass at Dolores Park, shared two pints and watched the hum of San Francisco around us. They sat next to me, steady as the sun, reminding me, without saying a word, that I was never alone. — Kaanthi Pandhigunta
He saw me before I could
Fifth grade, hazel eyes, curly hair, honey skin. I was in love with him and was already designing plans for us to fall in love. I confessed my feelings to him. He gently responded, “Tiff, you're like my son; you don't really see me that way, do you?” Years passed and his question remained in my mind. Then one day, walking along the boardwalk, hand in hand with my girlfriend, I saw him again. I smiled, introducing them. His hazel eyes shone with happiness as he saw that I had found myself and my sexual identity, something he seemed to understand long before I did. — Tiffany Pippins
You are never too old to be a mother
I thought I wanted to be alone with my husband after my son was born, but then my mother brought me breakfast in bed: banana pancakes, fresh off the stove, with hot syrup on the side. He cut them into pieces so I could eat with one hand while holding the baby. They tasted so good I cried. Today we were with my son in the park. As I chased him with his hat, my mother asked me, “Did you put sunscreen on?” “Yeah, I just need to get his legs back,” I said. “Not him,” she replied, smiling. “You!” — Virginia Craig
