Teaching With ‘Tiny Love Stories’ 

  
“Hey” Is Not “Heyy” 
“Heyy,” his message read. My heart fluttered. One “y” may have left me upset, but the second 
“y” — that was promising. Such a simple yet ambiguous greeting. Did he want to hang out? 
Was he going to confess his love? Oh! He was typing. A double text! It was my lucky day. I 
broke a sweat waiting for his response. How should I respond? “Hi!”? “I am in love with you”? 
My message had to show the same amount of interest as his. He responded! “Sorry didn’t 
mean the extra ‘y.’” Oh. — J
​ ulia DiGeronimo 
  
Shelter Dog for a Sheltered Heart  
They deemed her unadoptable because she was scared of everything. But lying on the cold 
shelter floor that January day, she cracked open my guarded heart. A week later, I brought 
home my shaggy little bear and called her Stevie. She’s still scared of many things: the 
garbage truck, men in uniform, loud children. But she has developed a fondness for just as 
many others: barbecue chicken, snuggles on the couch, walks in the park. If you want to learn 
how to be loved, adopt a dog who needs to learn how, too. — ​Lee Propp 

 
Brian Rea 
  
Back in the Rhythm of Conversation 
My 14-year-old, Vedant, dwells in a dungeon (i.e. basement) under my bedroom. Through the 
muffled cadence of his voice, I deduce if he’s in virtual school or playing an online game. 
Thrice a day, he comes up for air, asking, “What’s there to eat?” We used to talk a lot on our 
car rides, about life and feelings. Now we have nowhere to go. For the holidays, I make him 
my sous chef. Slicing a butternut squash, my knife slips. He takes my bleeding finger in his 
hand and blows a kiss. Food an excuse, we talk about feelings again. — Y ​ ogyata Singh Davé 
 
New Announcement, New Name, Still Ours 
When you were born, we sent announcements — name, weight, date — engraved on thick 
white cards with pale pink stripes and polka dots. “It’s a girl,” we said. We were thrilled. Now, 
16 years later, so much is new. The pink was wrong. The name was too. This time, we know. 
It’s a boy. There will be no pastel stationery. This time, we are telling everyone, face to face. 
He’s ours.​ — Maria Blackburn 
 
 
 
 Teaching With ‘Tiny Love Stories’ 
My King in the Uniroyal Jacket 
Dad, do you remember when you came home late from work (as you did in those days) and 
scooped me up out of bed, wrapped me in my blanket and set me on the back of your 
borrowed motorcycle? We rode to the A&W and sat on a bench under the egg-yolk-yellow 
lights with root beer floats: the orange awning flapping, the moonlit sky, the future, childhood 
that would last a lifetime, the smell of work in your shirt, me, the prince of your moment, and 
you, the king in your Uniroyal jacket. ​— Theodore Groves 
 
Calling Anyway 
When my friends ask me over FaceTime how I’m doing, I tell them that I spend a lot of time 
crying. It’s easier than admitting that I can’t seem to get out of bed before 2 p.m. Or wash the 
dishes that are stinking up my sink. Or get done any work that I normally love doing. But it’s 
more honest than “good.” Sometimes they laugh and say “same,” and sometimes they look 
down and don’t know what to say. The rest of the conversation limps along. I apologize for 
being a stranger. They call me every week anyway. — ​Jemma Dooreleyers 

 
 
Brian Rea
  

Fleeing the Flames 

“Got your passports? Underwear? Flashlight radios?” My family of five split into two cars, 
figuring a car saved was a car gained. Mid-dinner, “Evacuation Order” pinged on our phones. 
The inferno scorched the foothills, threatening our San Jose, Calif., home. We sped to a 
beachside inn, the waves our protector. Amid the hazy Pacific air, Dad — bereft of utensils — 
whomped a watermelon open. My sister, Arianna, humored spotty video classes. My mom 
and my brother, Aidan, dug a sand tunnel. Whether our house would survive was anyone’s 
guess, but in this salty seaside suite, we found hearth and home. — ​Melody Cao 
 
Without Him 
After dinner this March, my 28-year-old son decided to leave this world. He left me his cat. I 
didn’t want his cat; I wanted him. His cat didn’t want me; she wanted him. She cries all night. I 
cry all day. She sneaks into his bedroom to look for him; so do I. She smells his sheets; so do 
I. She waits by the front door; so do I. We’ve learned to find comfort in each other. We 
snuggle, sleep and mourn together. I had a beautiful boy named Elias. Now I have a beautiful 
cat named Damie. — ​Deirdre Stein 
 
 
 Teaching With ‘Tiny Love Stories’ 
Seeing Myself Looking Back 
Max and I first locked eyes across a classroom our sophomore year of high school, each 
sensing someone uncannily familiar staring back. We became fast friends, and suburban 
mischief ensued. We taught ourselves (and each other) a new, queer brand of masculinity, 
reveling in the freedom that comes from an instinctive mutual understanding. Then high 
school ended. She left for the military. I, for university. Differences that once felt small and 
sparse grew vast and plentiful. Yet, as we’ve come into our own, our paths realigned. 
Sometimes, it still feels like that first meeting, like looking into a mirror. — K
​ elsey Smoot 
 
Inseparable Twins 
Sick of being “the twins,” we made rules for freshman year. Keep my hair short and red, 
Anushka’s brown and long. Live in different dorms. Sit on opposite sides of lectures (nature 
and nurture against us, we’re both biology majors). No eating in the same dining hall or going 
to the same parties. Meet once a week, max. That didn’t last. I couldn’t live apart from 
someone who’s a part of me. After a year of enduring impossible problem sets, roommate 
drama, assorted heartbreaks and our parents’ divorce, we laugh at how we once thought we’d 
do it alone. ​— Anjali Walia 

 
 
Brian Rea
 
 

Pierce My Ears or Run Away? 

The kitchen whiteboard was erased, replaced by our 7-year-old’s survey: “Isabel is going to 
get her ears perest or run away. Wich one do you choose?” “P. S. Once you choose you have 
to let her do it!!” Then a chart, with choices: “ears perst” or “runaway.” “Put a ✔ in the spase 
you want.” To her older brother: “Jeff you have to do it as if you incredibly cared for me.” 
Lastly: “P.S. I don’t care if I spell thing rong.” Proud of Isabel’s defiance and ingenuity, my wife 
and I eventually let her get her ears “perst.” — ​ Robert Schroeder 
 
Together But Miles Away 
Because of the pandemic, John and I are thousands of miles apart and separated by borders 
that are indefinitely closed. On my weekend, he takes me on a trip to South Korea through 
Google Maps. We “stay” at the beautiful Hotel Shilla, where the daily rate costs more than my 
weekly food budget. We go on Street View to see the school John grew up attending and visit 
his favorite childhood haunts. We travel to different cities, my cursor dragging through streets 
and alleyways. John says, “I hope I can take you there for real one day.” — ​Erika Lee 
 
 Teaching With ‘Tiny Love Stories’ 
 
Call Your Grandmother 
She doesn’t realize how one phone call can affect a grandmother who lives far away. It was 
unexpected but so welcome. My 14-year-old granddaughter called me of her own volition with 
her just-purchased first phone. It wasn’t a text, or a message on Facebook, Twitter, Skype or 
Instagram, none of which I truly understand. It was a real old-fashioned phone call, her first to 
me ever. She called to mourn Notre-Dame because we had been there, just the two of us, on a 
recent trip. We shared our sadness and our love. ​— Iris Shur 
 
Food = Love 
Every month, my family comes together at the same Korean barbecue restaurant in Bayside, 
Queens. My mother fills my plate with pieces of short rib faster than I can eat. My father does 
the same with my sister. We try to push back with our chopsticks, but my parents’ aged 
Korean hands have an unmatched dexterity. We take five bites for every one of theirs. They 
watch us eat, then pile on more. When they see that we’re stuffed, they beam. And though 
they barely ate, they suddenly look full too. ​— Royce Park 

 
 
Brian Rea
 
 

Strength Training 
My first personal training session was less than 24 hours after my boyfriend of four years 
broke up with me. I couldn’t breathe — or cancel. I balked at the weight the trainer asked me 
to pull, push, carry, grab, move. “You’re stronger than you think,” he said. I cried. Four weeks 
later, I cried different tears as he took a video of me getting my chin — for the first time in my 
weak-armed life — over the bar. My trainer was barely more than an acquaintance, but he 
taught me how to pull myself up. ​— Marilyn Vaccaro 
 
India Is an Ache 
Landing in Mumbai feels like releasing a breath I didn’t know I had been holding. My husband 
remembers India as dirt, poverty, noise. I remember aromas of masala-fried pomfret, 
generosity of gruff cabbies saying, “No madam, you keep the change,” daylong cries of crows, 
hawkers, doorbells. In America, I play music to curb silences. For me, India is no longer a 
country; it’s an ache. I left the place I love for the man I love. It’s not a complaint. I’m only 
saying, sometimes, the most unconditional of loves are also the most inconvenient. ​— Kanika 
Punwani Sharma 
25 MentorTexts From The New York Times Tiny Love Stories Series

Hey Not Heyy

Heyy, his message read. My heart fluttered. One y may have left me upset, but the second
y thatwas promising. a simpleyet ambiguousgreeting. Did he want to hang out? Was
he goingto confesshis love? Oh! He was typing. A doubletext! It was my luckyday. broke a
sweatwaiting for his response. How should I respond? Hi! ? am in love with you ? My
message hadto show the same amountof interestas his. He responded! Sorry didn'tmeanthe
extra y Oh. Julia DiGeronimo

Fender Bender

While looking the other way, I rammed into the back of her car. Are you all right? asked . Yes ,
but don't know about my car she said without anger. Are you OK? Still in shock and worried
about being liable, noticed the slight damage to both of our cars, then the sunflower on her
dress. She's the type of person I could be friends with , thought. I replied, I'm all right. With
mutual relief, we hugged spontaneously, then drove off our separate ways . My bumper was
bruised, but my faith in humanity was restored. Carrie Klein

A Kind of Cinderella Story

Insecond grade, I was cast as Cinderella's wicked stepmother in my school's medley of

fairy-tale skits. Tall, with dark hair pulled back, forced Cinderella to scrub the stage floor. With a
body thoughtwas too big for fairy wings, ached to be fragile. Backstage, playfully shoved my
crush Vito (dressed as one of the three little bears). He fell back, squashing Tinkerbell's wings .
Everyone hurriedly helped her. I felt shame. Had Sister Rosemary sensed my innerwickedness
and cast me accordingly? She found me hiding and whispered in my ear, You were magic out
there Lisa Fogarty

Music in the Woods

Jenny plays music from her MP3 player. Christmas carols in July . Operatic voices fill the woods
as robins flutter down and surround her. Jenny stops moving and stares. The robins sing. No
words are spoken . Complete contentment in nature . She turns to me and plants an awkward ,
resolute kiss on my lips . It is only now in her teenage years that she can tolerate touch. pull my
autistic daughter to my breast and feel her love. Grainne Armstrong

Saving My Life, and SavoringIt

nervously decided to study abroad the summer after my junior year in college. Four years
recovered from my struggle with anorexia . My body had healed but my mind was still at war.
Italy charmed me like a lover hadn't expected to meet. Rome courted me on cobblestone
streets. Capri caressed me with its sea. Florence spoon-fed me gelato . In a country far away,
my body finally began to feel like home . I had saved my life, but Italy taught me how to savor it.
Stephanie Kennedy

The New YorkTimes

LearningNetwork
Inseparable Twins
Sick of being the twins, we made rules for freshman year. Keep my hair short and red,
Anushka's brown and long. Live in different dorms . Sit on opposite sides of lectures ( nature and
nurture against us, we're both biology majors). No eating in the same dining hall or going to the
same parties. Meet once a week, max. That didn't last. I couldn't live apart from someone who's
a part of me. After a year of enduring impossible problem sets, roommate drama , assorted
heartbreaks and our parents divorce, we laugh at how we once thought we'd do it alone.
AnjaliWalia

Netflix, Cake and SNL

For a decade, I've watched my former classmates settle into the conventional domestic pattern:
husband, wife , baby, house. They look grown up now . They look like their parents. , however,
remain single at 34 , pulling all-nighters and eating cake for dinner. I drive an hour for good
ramen. skip town for the weekend. I watch Netflix with impunity. No one is angry about the
dishes. Marriage sent my classmates down a steadier path, one that rarely crosses my itinerant
course. I do miss them . For me, saying, Congratulations on your engagement, is too often
another way of saying, Goodbye. Adam Chandler

CallingAnyway
When my friends ask me over FaceTime how I'm doing , tell them that spend a lot of time
crying . It's easier than admitting that I can't seem to get out of bed before 2 p.m. Or wash the
dishes that are stinking up my sink. Or get done any work that I normally love doing . But it's
more honest than good . Sometimes they laugh and say same, and sometimes they look
down and don't know what to say. The rest ofthe conversation limps along . I apologize for being
a stranger. They call me every week anyway. Jemma Dooreleyers

A New Twistto a FamilyTradition

In my Appalachian family, love tastes like apples. Each teenage woman goes through a family
tradition: mastering a signature apple-based recipe to feed her future husband. (There are a lot
of apples inAshe County, N.C.) My great-grandmother made tarts; my grandmother, pies my
sister, cakes and strudel. My cooking fails were not so laudable. burned dozens of desserts
before came out as gay. Fortunately, my family accepts me, and we still cook together. Being
queer in Appalachia can be sour, but also sweet. My family saves their apple cores and peels,
and ferment apple cider vinegar. Laken Brooks

My King in the Uniroyal Jacket

Dad, do you remember when you came home late from work (as you did in those days) and
scooped me up out of bed, wrapped me in my blanket and set me on the back of your borrowed
motorcycle ? We rode to the A& W and sat on a bench under the egg-yolk-yellow lights with root
beer floats: the orange awning flapping, the moonlit sky, the future , childhood that would last a
lifetime, the smell of work in your shirt, me, the prince of your moment, and you , the king in your
Uniroyal jacket . Theodore Groves

The New YorkTimes

LearningNetwork
Addie's Life Advice

Addie's face was a sun- bronzed book cover, every line a different story. Grandma , said, tell
me the secret to life. I was 8. We were shelling peas under a large Alabama cottonwood tree.
She slipped her hand into the pocket of the flour sack dress she had sewn and deftly searched
with her fingers . Then , as if by teleportation or magic, an unfiltered Camel cigarette appeared in
her mouth. She scratched a match, lit up , took a long drag , and with smoke whirling around her
head like a lazy tornado, she winked mischievously and whispered , Try it all. David Powell

Fleeing the Flames

Got your passports? Underwear? Flashlight radios ? My family of five split into two cars,
figuring a car saved was a car gained . Mid-dinner , Evacuation Order pinged on our phones.
The inferno scorched the foothills, threatening our San Jose, Calif., home . We sped to a
beachside inn, the waves our protector. Amid the hazy Pacific air, Dad bereft of utensils
whomped a watermelon open. My sister, Arianna , humored spotty video classes. My mom and
my brother, Aidan , dug a sand tunnel. Whether our house would survive was anyone's guess,
but in this salty seaside suite, we found hearth and home. Melody Cao

Said , Love You. He Said , Thanks .

We were in my hammock when looked at the socks I was wearing , the ones he had lent me,
and told him the words I was so scared to say: love you . The hammock swayed , crickets
chirped . Thanks , he said, but don't yet . He pointed at my feet . Those don't fit me. Do you
want them ? thought the hammock had tipped , thrown me violently out ; he didn't love me , this
was it. But years later , we still lie in my hammock and still wear those socks . He was right; they
are too small for his feet . Madeleine Fawcett

A Simple Friendship
Blah-blah? she would say, knocking . Only 2, Isabelle would venture through the building's halls
to my apartment . Together , we'd water my plants or scribble a story. At 3, she told me all about
Peppa Pig. At 4, Isabelle came to my door, saying, Bra-bra , taste Mommy's kheer. We savored
its delicate sweetness . On East 84th Street in Manhattan, we watched tulips bloom , leaves fall
snow arrive. Hi, Barbara , Isabelle said at 5. Sitting on my window ledge, she'd count taxis and
doggies . Unlike the complicated men dated , if I offered Isabelle a tangerine , she'd simply relish
it. Barbara Field

Gram Loves You . Please Call

My grandmother Ruth was like a secret agent . Before cellphones or the internet, she would
covertly track her grandchildren. At 23, moved to Mexico to work for a resort. I was , at last, on
my own . One night, while I was drinking with my co-workers at a beach bar, a man from a
nearby village walked in and shouted my full name . When I responded, he marched up to me
and said , Your abuela has called each house in our village . I was chosen to find you with this
message: Gram loves you . Please call. Amy Gotliffe

The New YorkTimes

LearningNetwork
Reply All
Your child doesn't have to bring valentines, but ifthey do, they'll need one for each student,
the fourth -grade teacher emailed . Do you really need to waste class time on this? a parent
replied all, beginning a long, email-chain argument among the adults. No interest in engaging,
conserved my energy for work and my three children . Yet for two weeks , my daughter Shiloh
spent her evenings handwriting messages to her classmates : Words of encouragement,
appreciation and friendship language that the parents forgot to use. I imagine replying all
Time is well spent when sharing words of kindness. Jessica Keith

My Mini Me
Are you going to have a baby? asked my mother over a game of mancala. was 8. Though
she had told me to be careful asking women about pregnancy, I was curious . She cocked her
head then answered yes. would like a little brother, replied. Twelve years later, the moment
is still on my mind. Hey, Big Head my little sister says whenever return from college. can't
help but grin in response. My parents gave me an annoyingly charming Mini-Me. Not a brother
but someone with a similarly big head. Eghosa Eguakun

New Announcement , New Name, Still Ours

When you were born , we sent announcements name, weight , date engraved on thick
white cards with pale pink stripes and polka dots. It's a girl, we said . We were thrilled . Now, 16
years later, so much is new. The pink was wrong . The name was too . This time, we know. It's a
boy. There will be no pastel stationery . This time, we are telling everyone , face to face. He's
ours. Maria Blackburn

More Chess? Yes.

We met at a chess tournament when we were 17. He asked me if I wanted to play more chess.
said yes. The next morning, we met in a nearby Montreal park and played a few games . We
continued playing through lunch, on the bus ride to an amusement park, on a picnic table, under
the picnic table, during dinner at KFC. We even played blind chess, visualizing the game while
in line for ice cream. When the day ended , he leaned over and kissed me. Quickly, we realized
that we loved chess much more than this kissing stuff. Olya Kaye

The Last Biscuit

Before the city pool in Johnson City , Tenn ., got drained at summer's end , dogs could take a
swim for five bucks . Sporting his green life jacket , Barney leaped in as if he weren't tired , deaf,
toothless . We stayed until no one else was left. It's a small thing in life , a dog, but small is
relative. packed biscuits for our last trip to the vet. I sat on the floor in the lobby, feeding Barney
biscuits one by one, and for a moment it seemed possible that we might never run out. Shuly
Cawood

TheNew YorkTimes
LearningNetwork
Between the Sunflower Stalks

August in a West Virginia sunflower field , early morning but already hot . Charlie's blue helmet
bobs through brilliant yellow flowers . He smiles as eye other infants between the sunflower
stalks. envy their round heads, symmetrical faces , bare scalps . Suddenly, miss Charlie's
smell, so duck beneath his helmet to peck his cheek . Why can't I have a helmet like Charlie?
my older son moans, tugging at my shorts . A seed of jealousy planted in him, the root of my
own problems , too : To believe our gifts are burdens, the inability to recognize our own bloom .
Anna Rollins

Still Cooking Side by Side

fry cutlets for chicken parmigiana , doing math: In my 53 years , I have fried thousands . My
mother taught me. When I was 7 , we would fry chicken side by side, her hip touching mine .
Cover yourself she would say. You'll get hurt and dirty that shirt. As a teenager, snap,
Ma, hate when you use 'dirty as a verb. But , no matter the age , I would listen and grab an
apron. More math: It's been over two decades without her. But still , like magic, she reminds me
to separate the cutlets and back away from the flame . Kathy Curto

A Rap for Rebecca

Was surrounded by my pals, but my mind was on a gal . Her car pulled up and that was it
should've put cuffs around my wrists. My heart beat red then flashed blue (felt sad that the party
was through ). Only time she had my spirits low wasn't her fault; she simply had to go. wanted
her to come back , kept messaging like a maniac. Four years later, she's still here, slapping at
my hand that nervously tugs at my ear. Grabbing my waist during concerts as if she protects me
from monsters. Joshua Corona, California State University of Northridge

No More We . Just

He asked meto marry him on our first date. Over the next 25 years : We ( mostly ) raised four
daughters while moving between two continents , three countries and seven states . We (mostly
he) gained career success, rising through the corporate ranks. We ( mostly ) mourned then
transitioned to life with a handicapped child . And then we (both) fell apart, just when we should
have been enjoying the fruits of our labor. He left me on April Fools Day last year, six days after
we opened our (now my) dream restaurant. There is no more we. Just Jennifer Brulé

WithoutHim

After dinner this March , my 28-year -old son decided to leave this world . He left me his cat.
didn't want his cat; wanted him . His cat didn't want me; she wanted him . She cries all night .
cry all day She sneaks into his bedroom to look for him ; so do She smells his sheets ; so do
She waits by the front door ; so do We've learned to find comfort in each other. We snuggle,
sleep and mourn together . I had a beautiful boy named Elias. Now I have a beautiful cat named
Damie. Deirdre Stein

TheNew YorkTimes
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