Magnolia on My Mind
He and I were walking, deep in conversation (in college, everything was serious). A group of lacrosse players with sticks walked toward us. In the path between us sat a magnolia blossom, big and pink, blown from a tree in the rain. We noticed the flower, and the lacrosse players did too. As we got closer and closer to the blossom, the players couldn’t contain themselves. They shouted to my friend (in unison as if they had practiced): “Come on! Give her the flower, man!” He obliged. Our romance never bloomed. But every spring, I smile, remembering that moment. — Alison Stine
Donor 309
I’d chosen Jonathan’s sperm from dozens of candidates. (He seemed kind, had sisters, loved art and books.) When my son Alex turned 18, he wrote a sweet letter about himself, hoping to connect, but saying he’d understand if it was all too much. Jonathan’s reply came quickly, an email that said, “Rise & Shine — It’s Donor 309!” We flew to California. A car door slammed outside my friend’s house; we went outside. A grinning Jonathan walked briskly toward us. Suddenly, we were all crying. “Look at this beautiful human we made!” he exclaimed. And then Jonathan and Alex embraced. — DJ Moran