• YOUR TRUE STORIES •

PICTURE PERFECT MOMENT

On a cool October afternoon I dropped my seventeen-year-old, Mayree, off for volleyball practice. She jogged off toward the field, then suddenly turned back, ran to the car, and leaned in through the driver’s side window. “See y’all in a few,” she said waving goodbye to her baby brother and sister. Standing outside the window, her ponytail swaying slowly in the breeze, bathed in the glow of the setting sun behind her, she looked like an angel encircled by a golden halo; like a Fra Angelico painting. I don’t recall if I told her how much I loved her, or how proud I was of the amazing young woman she had become, before driving away that day. I never saw her alive again. But I thank God every day for leaving me with that beautiful final image of her.

—Vickey Malone Kennedy Norman, Oklahoma

HAPPY RETURNS

A long flight of weathered steps led to a hollow wooden door with rusty numbers beckoning us into Room 1108. Inside we barely noticed the faded wood paneling, lumpy queen-sized bed, and thin, tacky carpet. We could see the expanse of seashore from our perch and easily wander down the access path to feel the sand between our toes. We returned again and again until the burgeoning resort tore down our orange-shingled eyesore. Forty years later, my husband periodically sends me a short e-mail that declares the time: 11:08. “I love you, too,” I write back.

—Laurie Olson Dayton, Nevada