I had gotten a bag of rice, a bag of flour, and some bread, but unfortunately, there was no more toilet paper on the shelves. In fact, most of the supermarket shelves were empty. But right after I decided to check out, I glimpsed a pack of toilet paper on the potato shelf. I hurried over, grabbed it, and threw it into my shopping cart as fast as I could.
In 2020, the virus took over the city. Everyone was depressed and scared. Life was dreary. You couldn’t do things. You couldn’t enjoy life. I hated the lockdown.
I got my acupuncturist license in 2001. Twenty years ago. The same year 9/11 happened. This tragedy shocked the world. On the day it happened, I volunteered to join the Pacific Acupuncture College team of the Federal Emergency Rescue after work. I still recall the silence and deep sorrow on every rescuer’s face. Two days after 9/11, there were not enough treatment beds for therapy.
I love to go for a walk in Central Park early in the morning. It is a paradise for dogs and dog lovers because from when the park opens at 6 a.m. until 9 a.m., dogs are permitted to go off leash, and they can run around on the grass. The scene looks like real New York, and the dogs look like they are enjoying the real dirt, grass, and huge space as real wild dogs.
My father was 78 years old when I decided to emigrate abroad with my husband for the first time. My father wasn’t too old but not young either.
I remember my grandfather’s wrinkled, rough hands as he
I remember his big hug protecting me.
I remember my feeling inside this hug, his face fresh with mint
from his aftershave.
Twenty-five years ago, my husband gave me a pair of beautiful round golden earrings. It was a gift for Valentine’s Day. Since that day, I have always worn my earrings. My husband would see me with the earrings every day and would tell me, “You liked my gift a lot.”
I was brought up in Moscow, Russia. All I remember about my early childhood is the feeling of total unhappiness and despair. At an early age, I was put in a special place for children whose parents were unable to take care of their kids for various reasons. I remember how much I hated that place and how much I wanted to go home. I remember our awful teachers, who established terrible rules we had to follow. Living there was real torture. It did leave an indelible impression on me.
It’s Saturday morning. At 9:02, the PATH train takes me to New York City. It’s a 40-minute trip to 33rd Street. Many people are on the same train. They are playing on the phone, listening to music, talking to each other, and taking naps. The train conductor is announcing the station name and opening and closing the doors. What an energetic space!
* “Have a nice day.” This is my favorite sentence. Because it’s a magic sentence. Hearing that sentence makes me happy. Some people might wonder why it makes me happy. Because people in countries where this custom is commonplace may not think it is a big deal. Isn’t it wonderful to wish for the happiness …
When we come to a new place, we always make new friends, and some beautiful stories may happen.
Since I moved to New York City, I have been living in midtown Manhattan, near the East River. In my leisure time, I like walking along the riverside, especially when the weather is nice. Over the river, many seagulls glide over the mirror-like surface of the water. The breeze gently brushes my cheeks, and the special smell combining the river and the ocean mesmerizes me and takes me to the other side of the sea. It is such a soothing place that it made me fall in love with this city.
I have always loved my profession as a teacher. I left this profession to immigrate to this country six years ago only because in my country, a teacher is a public employee who earns a very low salary.
When you read the title, you might be imagining the sound of a church bell or the ring of a pendulum clock. But no, it was not like that. It was my loud screaming noise. Let me share one of the most momentous experiences of my sweet childhood.
Jose Rodriguez had stomach cancer. The doctors told him, “You need chemotherapy to stop the cancer.
This is my family’s fun story about a lie. I often spent summer vacation at my grandparents’ house when I was child. Reversi was our favorite board game I remember playing with my grandmother.