My name’s Mira, and I’m 36. I live just outside Portland, Oregon, in a quiet little neighborhood where people wave to each other from their porches and kids ride bikes till the streetlights flicker on. From the outside, my life probably looks like something off a greeting card. I’ve been married to Paul for…

I’m 26, American, and I work as a waitress at a busy downtown restaurant. I like my job. My regulars know my name, the tips are decent, and I don’t have to pretend I care about quarterly projections. One night he proposed in our tiny kitchen between the trash can and the stove. My…

My name is Evelyn, and I am 67 years old. Until last fall, I lived in the house my husband and I built together in our 30s. Then my son kicked me out of it, saying he needed it more, but he didn’t expect that his actions would lead to more heartache for him.…

I used to think legacy was about buildings and balance sheets. Now, I know it’s about people. This is a lesson I learned when my aging body started giving up on me, and my family began circling like starving hyenas around an injured animal. For over 50 years, I, Grandpa Andrew, built something from…

My name is Anna, and I’m 35 years old. I have a daughter named Sophie from my first marriage, and she just turned nine. If you met her, you’d fall in love with her instantly. She’s the kind of child who gives away her last piece of candy without thinking twice. She draws little…

For our third anniversary, I told my husband I wanted it to be just us—not another family gathering, not another evening where I was lost in the background while he played the golden son. He agreed instantly. I believed him. I let myself feel hopeful. But when we arrived at the restaurant, I froze.…