Yearning for Tourmaline

As a child, I was given rocks and fossils in jewelry-sized boxes. I’d always hoped for tourmaline, the rainbow stone that generates electrical charge. Right before I moved to a new city, my best friend came to see me. My family moved often enough that I knew it might be the last time we ever spoke. Perhaps that’s why I acted on my feelings, which I hadn’t yet categorized but recognized as electric. I tried to kiss her. She literally ran from the room. As an adult, I’m still studying that moment of erosion, still admiring rainbows from afar. — Cassandra Lewis

Unfailing Old Magic

At the finish line, I couldn’t find my son, one of 21,000 Brooklyn half-marathoners. My cellphone, that new magic, wasn’t working. I needed something else. I grew Adrian in my body, held him tight when my husband died 12 years later. My deep love, that old magic, could tune into him. I put my phone away and closed my eyes. The noise of the crowd faded. My eyes snapped open. I knew exactly where to head. When I spotted him, he grinned and said, “I knew I’d find you.” He’s young, but he has the old magic too. — Karin Theophile

Her Red Swimsuit

I found her swimsuit. The red one from the summer she worked as a lifeguard. That summer, we hung out because we wanted to, not because we shared parents or a house. We shared a friend, a guy who became my boyfriend, then, eventually, my husband. Melissa and I bonded while jumping on his backyard trampoline. I regularly told her “I love you.” But did I elaborate? Was I intentional with my actions and words? Holding her swimsuit, fifteen years after her death in a plane crash, I hope my sister can feel the depth of my admiration. — Sarah Walt Weaver

Our Call and Response

Earl and I were introduced in January 1961. As we sat in a darkened movie theater in April watching a rescreening of “An American in Paris,” he leaned forward and whispered, “I think I love you.” I replied, “Please let me know when you do.” He did, and we married in October. Over the next 46 happy years until Earl passed, he would occasionally lean forward and whisper, “I think I love you.” And yes, I would then lean forward and whisper, “Please let me know when you do.” — Phyllis Sheerin Ross

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