Tiny Love Stories: ‘Take a Bath With Me’
A Face Like Her Mother’s In the supermarket yesterday, a young woman with three babies stopped stock still in front of me. “You look just like my mother,” she said. “A more healthy version, but just like my mother.” I asked if she had lost her mother; the pain was written all over her face.
Yes, she had lost her mother to drug abuse. Her father, who raised her, had recently died. A motherless daughter, a stranger, reaching out directly to me — someone who has also spent decades searching for my mother’s face in the crowd.
I wanted to hug that girl. Still do. — Lisa Finn Rubber Duckie, I’m Awfully Fond of You “Take a bath with me?” he asked. I wasn’t the “hop-into-the-tub-on-the-first-date type,” even if over the phone with 75 miles between us.
I protested. He persisted. “Let’s say we do meet,” he said, “and we do hit it off, and we actually end up together for a long time — maybe even forever.
