Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Families.
The Final Goodbye
The rusted red paint on the old barn appeared faded beyond its years. The sky, too, devoid of any cheery brightness, shrouded the immediate landscape in a solemn bleakness, as if even the inanimate objects and elemental forces were mourning the death of the proprietor of the farm, Nicki’s grandfather.
By Amanda Emm5 years ago in Families
Lost and Found
My grandmother, (my mimi) had been like a mother to me, always taking in my sister and I, when my mentally ill mother was hospitalized. Now my nine year old mind couldn't accept that she had supposedly died of a sudden heart attack. Surely they were lying. "Surely this was just a bad dream", I thought. As the reality sank in that she was really gone, memories flooded my young mind, of all the good times we'd spent together. I began to contemplate the new uncertainties in my life, I felt abandoned by the only person who loved and cherished me. My mother was emotionally unavailable and self absorbed. My father had left before I could remember, and grandpa (my pipi) died before mimi, when I was three. "Where will I go when mom gets sick again? Who will I play card games with me, teach me calligraphy, and listen to how my day went?," I thought, already feeling the loneliness setting in, as I didn't have many friends in our secluded area.
By Michelle Buckaloo5 years ago in Families
I’m Flockin Here!
2020 was a pretty wild year, but I don’t need to tell you that. It was historic…we all saw how crazy things got. It was a dark, confusing time and a lot was covered up. And I didn’t even know about plastic then either, so... wait, I’m talkin’ about the Rockefeller Christmas tree incident, what’d you think I meant? I doubt we need to do introductions here, but I’ll play along. My name is Rockefeller, you know the name, the center, the tree, the bird. So yeah, in case you didn’t know I’m kind of a big deal.
By Bailey Lewis5 years ago in Families
A Different Kind of Life
My feet drag across the ground as though my shoes are made of cement rather than the soaked fabric that clings to my feet. My chest feels just as heavy as I make my way through the thick mud that covers the ground. Slowly, stumbling from my heavy shoes and my weak knees. Rain falls in sheets. It soaked me the moment I stepped out of the house and I'm grateful for it. Sunshine on a day like today would be insult to injury.
By Kendra Payton5 years ago in Families
Cries of the Barn Owl
Yesterday was my tenth birthday. Normally, I would have woken up to my two older brothers, Seth & Jason, singing their embarrassing birthday version of “Lovely Rita” except they change the lyric “Lovely Rita, Meter Maid” to “Lovely Leda, Birthday Girl”. Then, my dad would make his “special birthday pancakes” which really just means they have sprinkles. And that night, we would all go to dinner at my favorite restaurant, “Rocco’s Waterfront”. But, none of that happened this year. Instead, here we all are dressed in black, staring at my father’s cherrywood casket. “Cherrywood is a classic”, that’s what the man at the funeral home told us. “It’s a bit richer than the mahogany, but you really can’t go wrong with any of the darker woods.” He made it sound as if we were picking out new cabinets for the kitchen.
By Laura Brooker Manning5 years ago in Families
Footprints in the Snow
It's cold tonight, and quiet. Nothing but the ticking of the clock on the wall. The old familiar melody of time. Monotonous in it's arrangement, yet a tune I've come to know well. It snowed about two inches today. On top of the snow we had earlier this week, it will be quite the feat if Jennie gets here tomorrow. It's been a long winter...or has it? I suppose here's where I intereject that for the last two years I've had, what my family has insisted, is the onset of Alzheimers. If it weren't for my journaling I'd be reliant on others telling me what's going on. And even still, I find myself starting a new page, in the middle of a thought, when it's as if the ink has left my pen. It takes me a while to remember to even return to the previous page to collect my story. But right now, I'm having a moment of clarity. I feel somewhat my old self tonight. It's a shame I have no one to share it with but this old dusty journal.
By Leah Nicole Yoder5 years ago in Families
Finally, Whole.
Being raised by only one parent and an abusive stepparent is rough. Trust me, I know. That is why I will never forget the time my heart finally became whole and not filled with a bunch of questions. It became time to meet the one person I had always questioned. My father left when I was little for another woman. I had never heard from him again until May of last year.
By Mikayla Wright5 years ago in Families
