My parents met at a party in New York City during a double date in the early ’70s. The couples switched partners because my mother and father had better chemistry. Less than a year later, they married.
They are technically still married, but have been separated for over two decades. I assumed they loved each other dearly in the beginning of their marriage. Once, I came across one of my mother’s journal pages in which she wrote, “He was fly”; a reference to my dad.
Recently, when I asked my dad about my mother, he said, “I loved her.” He…
My father handed me a folded slip of red paper. Printed inside were the instructions, saved from a recent restaurant excursion, for using chopsticks: Tuck under thumb and hold firmly. Add second chopstick, hold it as you hold a pencil. Hold first chopstick in original position, move the second one up and down. Now you can pick up anything.
He wanted me to learn the proper method, in which the eater only moves the top chopstick. Mine crossed in the back, both chopsticks moving at the same time, like a pair of scissors.
My husband smirked. Even though he’s not…
Bold, yet refined. A publication from Medium for Black women.