A Shaft of Light
We were 7-year-olds without siblings, living in adjacent Montreal apartments that shared a bathroom light shaft. Margaret had curly, ruddy-brown hair and glasses, and we simply liked each other. As soon as our parentally approved time together ended, we would run to our respective bathrooms, stand on our respective toilet seats and chatter through the windows until called away. Eventually, her family moved out and mine left Canada. Sixty-two years later, I see: That light shaft was our social medium, those windows our screens, in our analog love story. — Dov Midalia
Before Tinder and Grindr
His shirtless picture caught my eye. “Me on my solo pilgrimage to Israel,” Todd typed. “Sorry if it’s risqué.” He’s cute, I thought. I was Catholic but drawn to this modest yet adventurous Jewish man. I had tried blind dates, New York City gay bars, even personal ads. In 2000, AOL chat rooms were a new way of socializing. Long before Tinder and Grindr, online hookups sounded illicit. So for years we lied to friends and family about how we met. Two decades and two children later, we’re proud that he, “HeartofBklyn,” found a connection with me, “GymRat.” — Steve Majors
The Youngest Legal Scholar
Without family near or money to spare, I brought my newborn with me to law school, placing her on my lap during class. Jane’s presence may have distracted other students, but it also brought them joy. (Without a dose of humanity, civil procedure can be rather dry.) Jane never cried — neither in class nor as I wrote papers late into the night, waiting for my medical resident husband to come home. Now, my daughter thinks my lawyer job is boring, but her quiet patience made it all possible. — Kate Vaughan
When Bonds Don’t Break
Marrying Pankaj wasn’t easy. We both lived in the northern Indian state of Uttarakhand but belonged to different castes. Despite our parents’ opposition, we married. Eleven years into our marriage, I got terribly sick with dengue fever. As my weight dropped and my organs failed, I felt defeated, unable to fight further. Then, in the midst of my exhausted, blurred consciousness, I heard Pankaj’s voice: “Listen, you’re not going anywhere. I’m not letting you go. Do you get it?” I blinked and lived on. — Shikha Tiwari
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