Family
I survived the storm
“She’ll never make it” that’s what they said. I just lost my Mammy Bam as God called her Home, a few months before the most horrific accident imaginable. My Mammy was my rock, my hero, my friend. She was always there, she held my hand through it all. I still remember holding her hand telling her it’s okay to let go. It’s okay I’ll be alright. It’s okay to go. She closed her eyes one last time a few hours later and took her last breath. She left this world. My heart was broken.
By Rebecca Stump3 years ago in Confessions
My Father
My father was a self-taught mandolin player. He was one of the best string instrument players in our town. He could not read music, but if he heard a tune a few times, he could play it. When he was younger, he was a member of a small country music band. They would play at local dances and on a few occasions would play for the local radio station. He often told us how he had auditioned and earned a position in a band that featured Patsy Cline as their lead singer. He told the family that after he was hired he never went back. Dad was a very religious man. He stated that there was a lot of drinking and cursing the day of his audition and he did not want to be around that type of environment.
By Jane Oxley3 years ago in Confessions
Beginnings
It's chilly and humid here in the finished basement of my mother's house. I came to visit as quickly as I could when her health took a sharp and sudden turn for the worse. She'd been battling breast cancer for the last eleven years, with the last five years in stage four. She died on Sunday, surrounded by her children and a handful of her grandchildren. For the last several days, the house has been abuzz with activity: five adults catching up, cooking, joking, and planning for a funeral, and a grundle of teens and pre-teens making the most of their summer, running in and out of the house, slamming doors, watching movies, playing loudly with other kids from the neighborhood, and filling in life where adults overlook by habit or design. Most of my family have gone back home in preparation for her funeral. The smell of recent laundry and this morning's coffee tell the story of a slightly more lively house than the quiet and shadowy place from which I write.
By Gideon Maughan3 years ago in Confessions
Who's youth is not confused, write to your 20-year-old self
Now it seems that some of the things you did carefully at that time often ended in failure, and the clothes that you put together casually seemed like you. Of course, you wouldn't have known, and if you hadn't failed over and over again, I might still be on the same path today.
By king3 years ago in Confessions
Secret Life of a Church Family
Good morning-ting or afternoon or whatever. Let me start by introducing myself or what not. I am Noir, like the wine Pinot noir. Definitely not my mom’s idea but my dad’s; a current, used to be, or reborn alcoholic. We’ll talk about him a bit later but… yes Noir Goodwine is me. I guess they thought the name was a good play on words so I’ll take it. As an Aquarius women, we are known to be very nonchalant and have an I don’t care attitude so I had a pretty good life overall. But being the true Aquarius that I am, wise beyond my years. I have witnessed a lot of craziness. So let me give you the good wine about these people that DNA proved is my family. Now let me say before I get too deep, I don’t claim these folks anymore lol. I love them, I truly do but the messiness and craziness is not conducive to me being the unbothered successful woman that I am. Soooo I’ll start with my dad side of the family because to be honest, they will have me writing this story for years to come. Yes it is just that crazy but trust me, it is 100% true.
By Noir G3 years ago in Confessions
Speechless
One evening, after dinner, there was nothing to do. Sitting on the railing along the road with my father, the wind is very comfortable blowing the sadness of the beginning, it seems that it can become a trace in an instant. The burning clouds at the edge of the sunset are particularly enthusiastic or unrestrained, it is a beautiful night, I read in my heart.
By test3 years ago in Confessions
My first birthday
I've never had a birthday in my life. Maybe it's because the old days were so hard that parents were too busy making ends meet to think about their children's birthdays? Perhaps he has been used to this kind of ordinary life for many years? Even though my kids clamor every year about how to celebrate their birthday, I never thought about celebrating my own. Perhaps in my shallow consciousness it was as good as nothing, so I didn't celebrate my birthday until I turned 40.
By Liston Flowers3 years ago in Confessions
