Modern Love, Revised and Updated: True Stories of Love, Loss, and Redemption

by Daniel Jones

Now, after eight years, I know. When did I know? Was it how she helped me deal with the death of my grandfather? The relief I felt when she finally answered her cell on September 11? That great hike in Point Reyes? Because she cried when the Sox finally won? The way my nephew greets her like a rock star when she walks into the room? Perhaps I should have known right from the start, that morning of our cross-country trip, when she required one last trip to Arthur Bryant’s for a half slab of ribs for breakfast (and ten minutes into the meal saying to me, “Hey, baby, why don’t you pop open a beer?”). Or did I not truly know until seven years later when we found ourselves forced apart for more than a year? Who can say? It’s the big moments, maybe, but it’s the little moments as much or even more.