Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Families.
Deuces
On a first look, one may say, “What in the world is this little girl doing posing down low and making peace signs. Well, let’s just say my four year old daughter Izabela, has quite a way of expressing her thoughts not just through words but also by her actions which can be quite hilarious considering her age.
By Prime Tyme Fitnez5 years ago in Families
Avenues: The Finale, Part 1
He was definitely hiding something. I kept visiting my father in prison, pretending to rebuild the kind of father-son relationship he so desperately wanted, just to gain his trust. It’s been months and he hasn’t coughed anything up worth any value to me. Nothing that would allow me to gain any leverage towards Oliver who still hadn’t made his move yet. Months have gone by and not a single bomb has been thrown on this side of the fence. It made me uneasy and it was causing my insomnia to resurface.
By Sharlene Alba5 years ago in Families
Jimmy Sleeps
It was the middle of the night Jimmy lay in bed, everywhere was quiet except for the gentle snore coming from mommy's room. He knew if he told her in the morning that he could hear her snore, she would smile and say, "I don't snore baby. That's the cat purring you can hear," and then she will laugh and walk away. Only they both knew that Felix did not snore at all, or purr at night, for Felix was the quietest of cats you could possibly know he only cried when he was hungry. The rest of the time he was so silent you wouldn't know he was there.
By Susie Antara James 5 years ago in Families
My Grandfather Kept us all Laughing
When I went to college in 1982, I was 6 feet tall, and light enough at 135 pounds, that my huge ears could have taken me airborne with a strong wind. My long, hooked nose was also hard to miss and looking more like an eleven year old didn't do me any favors either. I was an easy target for the guys on my floor, and the barbs came nonstop. But they had no idea, and ultimately cementing my place, I had the fifth floor exactly where I wanted them. You see, I learned from the best. In my family, survival means knowing how to roll with a slight and then apply just enough sarcasm to gain the upper hand. The source of these skills are easy to pinpoint - my grandfather, Charlie Monetti. He set the table for two centuries of Monetti laughter, and an account from my grandmother perfectly describes how all the back and forth emanated from his presence.
By Rich Monetti5 years ago in Families
Finding Home
It was a steamy mid-summer day in July. The kind of day that made the highway ahead of your dance in the waves of heat passing through the atmosphere. Charli was stuck in traffic just across the state line just like every other weekday morning for as long as she could remember, and she was already running behind. She cursed under her breath as she noticed a large truck in the left lane ahead, trying to pass a smaller truck.
By Mary Johnson5 years ago in Families
Thanksgiving weekend
Thanksgiving weekend, three sisters with their kids and husbands head out of town . They rented a beautiful farm house for the festivities And have all the food needed for an amazing feast. Once they arrive , they pass through a small town .All the streets are decorated as if they were in a hallmark movie. The pumpkins , sunflower bouquets and a beautiful smell of fresh baked apple pie filled the streets .They pull up to the house and it’s breath taking , the beautiful maple trees dressed in their best fall colours are dancing in the light crisp autumn wind. The men unpack the car whilst the kids are playing in the leafs , the sisters head into the house and crack open a bottle of wine . They prepare the turkey and stuffing and put it in the oven and start the timer . Sitting on the porch swing, the sisters admire their kids and husbands in a distance playing and laughing . They decide to visit a pumpkin patch nearby and grab a couple for the kids to carve . Once they finish the carving they put little lights inside the pumpkins that will light up once the sun goes down .
By Tiffany Barba5 years ago in Families
Corner Booth
I was having a heated discussion with my mom. It was all in my head, but I was getting my thought out regardless. I’ve started having these conversations with myself instead of with her, not because I was afraid of these conversations with her, but because I knew how they would end. In my head, I get a tearful apology and changed actions that confirmed that apology. In reality, however, it would end in a fight. I would plead my case, she would insist she’s doing absolutely nothing wrong with that tone that takes me back to her middle naming me when I was in trouble when I was young. Her brow would furrow and I would retaliate in that booming voice that frightened my brother when he was little. We wouldn’t surrender until the other walked away and then we wouldn’t speak without harsh tones for days. Eventually, sweeping the issue under the rug to fester and never again see the light of day. This is how every confrontation with my mother has gone for as long as I can remember, and I don’t have it in me to fight right now. So, I play both parts and say each line over and over until I get the result I feel I deserve. Just another item to add to the list of things I need to talk about in therapy.
By Shae Moreno5 years ago in Families
war zone
i was born into a war zone, a family fighting itself til there was nothing left but pain. i didnt get to have that happy childhood, i got foster care and abuse. there where two homes that i wish i could have stayed at, but it wasnt in the cards for me. i learned from a young age that pain will always be there. that even if you do everything right, if someone else is having a bad day that you could be what they take their anger out on. i remember busted lips and pin pricks, black eyes and almost busted ribs. i have scars from what was done to me, some you can see, others you cant. i can still feel the hands around my throat from when i was 5 years old. i wake up crying from memories that i still cant forget. i am 29 years old and i know that i am lucky that i am alive cause after everything i really shouldnt be.
By Victoria Martins Read5 years ago in Families
What It’s Like Missing a Drug Addicted Mother
My mother passed away August 24th 2007. I was 9. I knew from a young age that my mother was not like most. She was out at most hours of the night and slept most of the day. The times she was awake, she was sitting in the dark, a shroud of cigarette smoke surrounding her like an undiscovered island.
By Stephanie Rice5 years ago in Families
