Jerene Buckles
Bio
Jerene is a mom of nine, writer, and burgeoning midwife.
Stories (11)
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Ukraine Means Something to Me
Two years ago, I traveled halfway across the world to ask two seventeen-year-olds if I could be their mom. I spent nearly six months traveling back and forth to Ukraine a total of five times. I spent a lot of time exploring the country. I have been from Lviv, to the tiny town of Oleshky and many places in between. My children grew up in this amazing country. They were essentially adults when we came home, so it is THEIR country.
By Jerene Buckles4 years ago in Humans
The Long Journey Home
The last thing I remembered before the sun went down were the fields of sunflowers. Ukraine was known for its sunflowers. I remember the nervous smile of my husband standing in the doorway of the old, weary bus we were traveling on. I remember the sweet babushka sitting near the window in the seat next to me. It was sweltering hot on the bus. I had a small rechargeable fan clipped to the seat in front of me, but even on high, it did little more than force the hot, stale air to move around me sluggishly. Here I was. Sweating, starving, and nervous jumping all over a pothole-riddled road on a bus in part of the former Soviet Union, now a proud independent nation. I would have been miserable save for one overwhelming detail. Tomorrow I was going to meet my daughter.
By Jerene Buckles4 years ago in Families
The Coming Cold
The air whispered softly to Charlotte. Morning dew perched boldly on every surface. It seemed the world was still asleep. Charlotte, however, was wide awake. Fear was so thick she nearly choked on it. She looked down at the faces of her two small children, warning them with her eyes, begging them not to make a sound. Her husband’s screams were violent, deep, demanding. He had come barreling out of the house just a few moments ago, belting out her name.
By Jerene Buckles4 years ago in Families
Hidden Green
The three boys stood at the edge of the woods shifting their weight nervously. Dusk was slowly settling over them. They stared past the tree line hoping to gain some confidence. When they hatched this plan, each assumed the others would chicken out. They had talked about it for months. It was a constant hum anytime they got together, which was nearly daily. They were best friends, neighbors, brothers even.
By Jerene Buckles4 years ago in Fiction
Going Away
She tried to catch her breath, but nothing seemed to help. Tears filled her eyes as she stared at the doorway her husband and son just left through. He was gone. Her son was gone. They had decided it was best if mom not come to drop him off at college, and she agreed, but only because she knew she couldn’t handle it. She wasn’t ready for her first-born child to be grown, leaving her house. Her husband was overjoyed to go with his son on this journey to being his own man. She was left behind with her heart ripped out of her chest. Her heart, that just walked out the door and away from her home.
By Jerene Buckles4 years ago in Families
Nine Kids and Painting
I am impulsive. I don’t think of it as some massive character flaw, honestly, it’s a gift. I wouldn’t be who I am today, with the fantastic life I have, without the gift of impulsiveness. My husband is the opposite of impulsive. Information that shocks no one, I am sure, since this is the way things usually go. The jump-into-the-deep-end gal ends up with the think-through-every-possible-outcome-ten-times guy, right? I decided a few days ago that I needed to paint my kitchen cabinets. In my mind, I would go to the store, pick out a good color, bring it home and go to town. After all, I had already pinned several dozen inspirational color ideas to my “kitchen” board. What more do you need?
By Jerene Buckles4 years ago in Families
When the Marigolds Fade
An empty picture frame, Hung on the wall to speak your name. Rachel had a miscarriage a few years ago. At the time, that had been the worst thing she had ever lived through. A few weeks after losing the pregnancy, she had written a poem for her tiny, missing baby as a way to find some closure. These two lines were the only thing she remembered. She knew she had kept a copy somewhere. Unfortunately, time passed, and she tended to forget things such as where she had hidden an intimate poem. They moved a few years later and the poem remained undiscovered. Rachel assumed it was probably gone forever, which made her just the smallest bit sad.
By Jerene Buckles4 years ago in Families
A Nicely Wrapped Package
Miles was awoken by the angry sounds of a large truck barreling down the street in front of his house. He rolled over, wishing they had the decency to be quiet. He had a late night. Connor, his roommate was up late, TV blaring, clacking on the computer, music blasting. He loved Connor, but the late nights were a regular thing with him. He was still in college. Miles felt like Connor had always been in college and he wasn’t sure it made for a healthy lifestyle. He was worried.
By Jerene Buckles4 years ago in Petlife
Love Isn't Always Enough
The chocolate cake she spent two days making just landed on the floor. The room immediately went silent. All eyes focused on the painfully small eight-year-old birthday boy. The room wasn’t terribly crowded. There were five friends, an assortment of parents, two cousins, and an aunt. Everyone was staring, mouths gaped open. Their breath caught in their throats, waiting to see what would happen next. Suddenly, the little boy flew to his room, as fast as his legs would take him, and slammed the door. His screams echoed throughout the house.
By Jerene Buckles4 years ago in Families
Sorrow to Hope
For the first time in several decades, the door of the old barn was straining under the force of someone trying to push it open. A low groan was uttered in protest. The man continued to push. The barn continued to object. The power struggle lasted for quite a while before the door gave way slowly. Light swarmed into the open spaces of the interior, filling all it touched with warmth. Dust and small critters panicked, darting here and there as they looked for a new place to be left in peace.
By Jerene Buckles5 years ago in Families
The Brilliance of Pearls
You are my sunshine, My only sunshine, Now you're gone dear, But I'm still here. There is a moment when you first wake up when you have some peace. You mistakenly believe the world is still the same. That moment doesn’t last long. Your eyes open, the peaceful moment passes, then grief falls on you like a monster. It settles over every part of you, smothering you, choking the life out of you, weighing you down, crushing your heart again. You can’t breathe. Tears begin to sneak out of your eyes, despite the fact you were only able to fall asleep because you had finally cried all your tears. Somehow the morning always brings more tears. The peace you felt for two seconds was brutally ripped away again. Day after day after day you wake up, wishing you hadn’t.
By Jerene Buckles5 years ago in Fiction
