extended family
All about how to stay connected, strengthen ties and talk politics with your big, happy extended family.
Brownies and Tennis
LITTLE BLACK BOOK Rose is watching TV enjoying her dinner when she's interrupted by a knock at the door. Due to her husband passing, kids moving away she has not had company in over 15 years and becomes startled and hesitant. Against her judgement she goes to the door looking through the peephole. To her surprise it is Hannah, a 15 year old with two big red curly puffs, freckles, and a charm bracelet with "H" on it. Rose opens the door. "Hi I'm Hannah, your new neighbor. I was wondering if I could get my ball that went into your yard?" She's a tennis player for her highschool team. Rose responds with "Yea sure go get it" in a very monotone nonchalant way. Being the bright bubbly kid she is, Hannah smiles, says thank you and begins to retrieve the ball.
By Takila Wiley5 years ago in Families
One Page Left
A man by the name of Paul walks into a bookstore looking for a music book to buy to help create his next song. Paul finds the music book he is looking for. He also browses a bit more looking for a notepad to write his notes and lyrics for his new songs. He walks around the store and finds a pile of colorful books and one stands out. A little black book. No text on the outside and no text inside. Immediately Paul finds his second find. Paul is taken by the simplicity of the black book and makes his final purchase.
By Cynthia Appleby5 years ago in Families
Family History
Rummaging through the cherry wood trunk, her fingers reached the bottom. She let out a small sound of exasperation as her fingers brushed the cold, smooth surface of yet another yellow Fenton bell speckled with purple spots. It wasn’t there. She didn’t know exactly what she was looking for, but she knew it couldn’t be another one of her grandfather’s glass trinkets.
By Destanie Sweeney5 years ago in Families
A page of her
I must have seemed hysterical to these men, a teen-aged pregnant girl, sobbing and screaming and tearing things from their hands as they moved like rats through our small home. Boxes of things spilled all over the rooms, my eyes swollen and dark as if I’d been whacked, and although I knew what was going on, I wondered, how did this happen? There wasn’t much I could do to help the situation besides collect scattered beads that moments ago formed a lovely scene of sky and sun. I imagined the many hours it took her to string the beads into a belt and I felt sad..mad too and useless to do anything more but to make two piles, one yellow, one blue.
By kealan sullivan5 years ago in Families
Walking Mother Home
The rumble of the excavator shakes the decking where I stand. In front of me, trees fall in seemingly slow motion, sleepy giants hitting the ground with a force that I feel in my own chest as if it were I who had fallen. My face is wet with tears, but I can't stop grinning. I feel gratitude swell through me more poignantly than I can ever recall.
By Rhonda Anderson5 years ago in Families
The Lamps
I never saw Joanna move into her unit in our townhouse development. But from my kitchen sink, I could look out the window and see her fenced backyard crammed full of boxes, crates and garbage cans. The reason I could see the clutter and trash in her yard was because it was piled far above the six-foot fence, and was stacked up to the eight-foot height under the patio awning. It truly was an eyesore.
By Stephanie Launiu5 years ago in Families
Nothing But Something
The sun sat high in the sky causing extreme heat felt by the towns people on their most important day of the year. Every bell in Townhall rang out, as they roamed the streets with anticipation. Neighbors from across town gathered to observe “The Legacy Hunt,” where the winning family would be awarded title of "Heir of Legacy". The title not only grants the winning family praise, adoration, and service of the people, but access, influence, and control over the town's resources as well. The most significant prize was an 20,000-dollar donation gathered from the towns people. Traditionally, all the towns' families compete in the hunt, however only two families in the entire history of the town have won the title and thus have reaped its benefits. The North family were the winners of the previous hunt taking the title away from the South family.
By Jaraad Johnson5 years ago in Families
Lola's Cookbook*
I hadn’t been inside a church in eight years. Filipino-American funerals are typically two day affairs, with an evening wake at the funeral home followed by a mass the next day. So after an almost decade-long absence, I found myself at St. Stephen’s Catholic Church where family friends and relatives gathered to say goodbye to my mother’s mother, my Lola.
By Alexis Lee5 years ago in Families
Uncle Graham
Uncle Graham had been my favourite Uncle. He was funny, kind, silly and as a child the one I was always itching to visit. Our humour was similar, I would always drag him into my latest 'Gabby Production'. Whether starring alongside my favourite teddy in a stage production in front of family or merely using him as a replacement for my Girls World to practice my limited makeup skills. He would always oblige willingly and interject a sense of mischief into everything we did.
By Tracy Pickwell5 years ago in Families
Inheritance
My late grandparents were the emotional center of our extended family. They are long gone, leaving behind 100 acres of land and their farmhouse. Then the surviving four children had to decide what to do with all their belongings. First, they had to divide up the many trophies my grandfather won as a champion racehorse trainer. There were countless silver platters, cutlery, crystal glasses, framed pictures of winning horses crossing the finish line, Jockey silks, and the more typical engraved sporting trophies.
By Sarah D'Astoli5 years ago in Families
Uncle John and the Notebook
“It's mah lahf! Mah freedom!” my Uncle John yells as I pull up to the drop-off line at the junior high. I glance over at him. He’s wearing black-rimmed, coke-bottle glasses that give his small, creased eyes an owlish look. His short, stubby fingers are balled into a fist, and he is pumping the air in front of me to emphasize his life and his freedom. His tongue is tucked into the corner of his mouth and he is for sure mad. "I only asked you to straighten up your papers a little bit bud," I reply.
By Ginna Saunders Ballard5 years ago in Families
The Truth as It is
The Truth Be Told I hold it in my hand my hand shakes I know I shouldn’t touch it or even have opened the red velvet trunk it was in. Mum has told me a hundred times grandma’s attic is for adults only, don’t ever go up there and never open the red velvet trunk. I look around and dust surrounds me and cobwebs fall from the rafters. This is a magical place and I love to sneak up here and just sit, wonder and imagine the people who’ve been here before.
By Louise Lovett5 years ago in Families
