Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Families.
Hard Times=Desperate Measures
As I, a single mother waited in the waiting room at the Job and Family services office where I had been waiting for hours with my little girl to apply for some kind of help. I sat and watched as many people came in and waited with me for the next available social worker. One family that came in that day caught my attention. I had heard them ask the lady at the front desk if they were in the right place to recieve benefits for themselves and they're new baby, which they had in a stroller and they explained was only a week old. They were new parents and they were in need of the assistance they were looking for. However, this family lived on a county line and the previous office they had went to directed them to this office. The lady gave them forms to fill out but when they returned to her desk they despaired as she told them they were once again in the wrong office. They needed to go to another office. The new parents exclaimed they had already been there and they were sent here and they were running out of formula for their new infant. They needed help. With the mother hysterically crying and the father trying to console her, they pushed the stroller out the glass doors that led to the elevators. I had just received my tax return and had a couple hundred dollars left after paying my rent and other bills. I quickly gathered my things and ran out the glass doors and met them at the elevators. I asked them to please stop and explained that I had overheard the conversation that just occurred between them and the receptionist. I told them that I wanted to help to get them the formula they needed for their baby and some diapers and maybe some other things that could help them until they figured out where they needed to go. I do not drive due to medical reasons and these folks took a bus to get here. So I pulled out my checkbook and I wrote them a check for $150 dollars. I told them that I did not expect anything for this. All I wanted was for them to do it for someone else someday, kind of a pay-it-forward kind of deal. They asked if I wanted their information so they could pay me back or maybe text me a picture of the receipt of what they had bought. I said it was not necessary, the money was now in their hands and for their babies sake I believe they would do the right thing. I said my goodbyes and I returned to my waiting area. I hope one day the deed is passed along and they remember the day someone helped them and they do the same.
By Barbara Lee5 years ago in Families
Mothering from Afar
I'm sitting here alone, eating some peanut butter toast with puffy eyes and a heart full of confusing emotions. Those of us who know, know: parenting teens is basically "WTF are they doing? Who TF are they? Who TF am I? Does anyone even know WTF they're doing or who they are anymore??". But then, parenting teens from afar half the time (DURING A PANDEMIC!) because you share custody is next level WTFuuuuuuuckkkk!!
By Janis Beke5 years ago in Families
Welcome to the end of your life
It was the year I turned 16, I remember taking a trip to the beach with my friend and her boyfriend in his convertible on the last day of school. The smell of the waves, the ocean breeze, the sand between my toes and the immensity of the ocean have always been my refuge, my medicine on difficult days, my happy place. Something about the way the colors change in the sky as the sun sets and watching the sun rise without fail every morning gives me hope of new beginnings.
By Rocio S Romero5 years ago in Families
Hometown Reclamation
When I first saw this prompt I balked at it. My hometown? Special? Yeah, okay. Despite my dismissal the topic kept settling in my mind; putting up photos, adding an accent chair, just making itself obnoxiously at home until I wrote my first draft of this. Except it wasn't this, at all, it was an incoherent rant about the illusion of hometown's mattering about how it's more about the intoxication of nostalgia than actual location, and, yes, there may be a little truth to that, it's not the whole truth.
By Christine Hollermann5 years ago in Families
A marriage destined to fail
My father was a drug addicted alcoholic and my mother a battered housewife. I remember how anxious I got when 4 o'clock came around because I knew my father would walk thru the front door at any minute and only God knew what mood he would be in that day. If maybe that would be the day he finally killed my mother from a beating. My mother never did anything to get away from him, she just took each beating and stayed. At 5 years old I called the police because my father had beaten my mother so severely I thought he was for sure going to kill her. When the police arrived and asked if she wanted to press charges her answer was, "no." I remember something inside me breaking that day. I lost all respect for my mother and hated the feeling of helplessness that invaded me every time he hit her while I watched without being strong enough or big enough to defend her.
By Rocio S Romero5 years ago in Families
Embrace Your Teenager's Perspective - It May Be Better Than Yours . Top Story - January 2021.
Sometimes our children are the role models we need. My daughter has astounded me recently. Truly blown me away. She’s stoic, compassionate, kind, brave and rational. She’s 13. Can I at 40 emulate this? I’m not sure. She’s been brutally forced to face her deepest strengths at a time when most are working out their most adventurous backflip off the climbing frame.
By Bianca Best5 years ago in Families
A Spot for Me
I’m nearly 28 now, but in high school before I knew how the world worked and yet felt pretty dramatically confident there was no place for me- I would often skip class and sit on the floor of our local Borders bookstore on the corner of 59th and Columbus circle. It was there that I had created a safe space from the relentless tormenting of my peers. I would sit for hours, reading Calvin and Hobbes in the travel section where I would then sneakily slip the comics behind catalogues about Rome and Egypt so that no-one could buy them. And there they would safely wait for me until the next time I needed to get away. Eventually I left high school behind and found out later the book store had been permanently closed. To commemorate my time there, I had a tattoo made of Calvin and Hobbes sitting in a box (traveling through time).
By Allegra Louise5 years ago in Families
Oh Butterfly - A Short Story
If not for friends and playing games, I don't know the point of going to school. As I was saying, I came home and tossed my shoes in a corner and my school bag in another corner. Owing to my patti's insistence, I developed the habit of going straight to the backyard to place the lunch bag in the common area for our servant maid Akka to wash them for the next day.
By vaisrinivasan5 years ago in Families
Where the Magic Happens
As an Anxious Introvert, that prefers to keep to myself over having lots of friends, my home is unconventional in its set up. Im a single mother of 2 boys ages 4 and 6. Early on I decided that I wasn't going to stress myself to keep up with what the world determined to be "normal". I currently stay in a 1 bedroom apartment. In order to make sure my kids got the experience of having their own space, and being able to decorate it how they'd like, I gave them the bedroom. With that being said I had to make due with the ultra small living room myself. So instead of couches and tables I have a futon for when guests come over (and to sleep on), a tv, and finally in the corner I have what my kids like to call the Pillow spot. In the pillow spot is where most of all of our best memories are created.
By Blue Dymond5 years ago in Families
The Beginning of the End
Where do I start with this I really don't have any fucking clue? i really dont have any fucking clue. As I sit here and hold my sleeping grandson. I really want to start with him. BUT THIS STORY WAS ALREADY STARTED AND HE KICKED IT. UGH.. His little story is one of those ALL MOST DIDN'T MAKE IT TO THE HOSPITAL. HIS mom was alone in Kansas, I was in North Carolina. Perpectively even his story cannot be told without telling his older sisters story. HER story is tied up in her mother's story.. HER mother's story.. IS TIED INTO MINE.. an MY story WELL lets just say my story is alot of running away from the people tied to me.. BREAKING THE FAMILY CURSE ONCE AND FOR ALL..
By Shades Mckenzie5 years ago in Families
