My Family After Tragedy

Today, completely out of the blue, a memory from my childhood surfaced. In my old neighborhood, there was a kid everyone called "Buchee." He was about three or four years older than me, so I reckon he was a young teenager when these events unfolded. Buchee lived close to my maternal grandparents, only two blocks from my house. Every time I visited them, I'd walk past his place, and we'd usually exchange hellos, maybe some light teasing – nothing ever offensive. Since I went to my grandparents' house daily after school, Buchee and I would often chat. One evening, a group of us kids, myself included, were playing cards on the sidewalk a few doors down from my grandparents' place. These games could get pretty competitive, and the currency we used was crystal marbles. At one point, the stakes were incredibly high, and the pile of marbles in the center was considerable. Buchee was in on the game, but suddenly, he scooped up as many marbles as he could with both han...

  Dear Love, Forgive me, it has been a while since I have written to you. It's not for a lack of news; home is buzzing with the typical growing pains and experiences of our family. For me, it's simply that I miss your hands, your warm body, your words. I miss planning things for us to do together. I have to admit, you always had the best ideas. I've become a Master Chef, but not the kind you see on TV. Oh, no! I'm cooking your dishes—daring, adventurous, and full of flavor! I set the table and see you in your chair, right opposite mine, with that favorite smile of yours, approving the dinner. I remember the first time you made spaghetti with tomato and basil. You thought I wasn't going to like it. Boy, were you in for a surprise! It became my favorite dinner. You made it for me. What a treat! Christina, you were the wife I always wanted to have. The fact that we found each other made me feel so special. We worked hard to be together and celebrated our love during ou...