Tiny Love Stories: ‘He Had the Nicest Toes’

I found myself in rural Oregon, two years into a marriage with the wrong man and on a difficult learning curve. My house: a hand-built cabin with a disabled wood stove. My partner: a developing opioid addict. Life was bleak and cold. Then I met my neighbors. My age is 50 years. They shared alcohol, stories and laughter. He taught me to identify native plants, wear turkey dress, read the layers of the ground, preserve the garden crop. And to make everything worth saving and loving – which, their kindness taught me, involved myself. – Kate keller

Amy was 8 years old. She lived with our friends, but they were too old to take care of her, so she soon moved to another foster home. I had no idea of ​​the maiden and I never thought of raising children. But Amy wanted a family. I told my wife, “I want to adopt Amy.” We finished the paperwork, read a bedroom and waited. Following a judge’s OK, we loaded copies of Amy’s clothes, crayons and Harry Potter into our SUV. It has been 17 years. I’m still not someone’s maiden’s idea, but I’m lucky that I’m Amy’s mother. – Lynn Domina

The first notable thing was his Chinese name, Doo Dao, “Dude, where are you going?” Second: He had the best toes. We met as exchange-level exchange students in Taiwan. Don was wearing slippers. On Christmas, she surprised me with a kiss. I hesitated. He said, “It’s okay – I won’t be dating until I find the one I’ll marry.” I asked, “How do you know I’m not?” He replied, “I am worried that you will make me tired.” I said, “Oh yes? I’m sure I won’t! “Twenty-five years, three countries and two children later, I am still winning that condition. – Doris Chow-Durfee

My father was dying of coronavirus. As a 96-year-old normally, he moved in and out of consciousness as I too was infected, sat on his bed. His brilliant moments were precious opportunities for connection and FaceTime calls with his grandchildren. One afternoon, they ordered me to get their yellow collared shirt, blue blazer, khaki pants, Sperry shoes and one of their many bows. I laid everything on her bed, as she talked about going to a beautiful dinner with her mother, who died 17 years ago. Then my father closed his eyes. – Katharine Cunningham

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