grandparents

Becoming a grandparent makes getting older something to look forward to - all the fun of parenting, without the hassle.

Purposeful Coincidence
Right before I stepped into the kitchen I felt a very gentle flay-like energy go through my ears. Then there was a nudge in my heart to go and answer the front door. “I just came out of the living room”, I thought to myself.
By Melanin Goddess5 years ago in Families
Secrets of the Chest
Shawna struggled to move her old Bombay chest up the walkway to her new home. It became almost comical to watch this tiny woman support the weight of this colossus dresser, pivoting the back legs forward inch by inch. She momentarily regretted investing in a property set so far back from the street and further back from its own driveway. But she persisted. Once safely behind closed doors, Shawna slowly collapsed down the chest. As she slid over its voluptuous curves, her fingers absentmindedly tracked what was left of the golden, vine-like inlay. They wrapped around the body, coddling the drawers in a natural embrace, falling over what was once a shimmering black lacquer. Though age had tarnished the finish, glimpses of elegance still peeked through.
By Melissa Carey5 years ago in Families
A Tribute to My Grandad
It was an overcast Saturday morning, the immediate scenery coloured in black, the atmosphere heavy as everyone was looking solemnly at the casket of my grandad that was lowered into the ground. There was an old Chinese folk song, which was one of my grandad’s favourite, playing in the background as I hear my parents saying goodbye for the final time between their sobs.
By Rowan Zhang5 years ago in Families
My Future
I sat across from Mr. Cheaves in a worn-out leather chair that he pulled up to his desk. I think you are going to like this he said. I respond with a short smile. I do not like surprises of any type. I do not like phone calls that disrupt the flow of my day and I especially do not like Mr. Cheaves.
By Renita Shadwick5 years ago in Families
Gratitude
The notebook had been a gift from her Grandma Rose on her 15th birthday. Wrapped in brown paper and string – an aesthetic cultivated for Beth’s benefit, rather than Rose’s – it was a neat plain black, compact, unobtrusive, unassuming. She had loved it.
By Hawk Stone5 years ago in Families
Of Gingerbread and a Key
On my sixteenth birthday, my grandma gave me a little black notebook to “keep track of daily life and to remind me of what I had to be thankful for.” A tiny thing, small enough to fit in my apron pocket and covered all around in black leather. It had a real silk string, too. How she came by it, I couldn’t then guess. Everyday I’d write a little something about what Ma was making for supper or how the crops were growing. Until the day my grandma died, just two short months from when she gave me the notebook.
By Just Your Ordinary Bookworm5 years ago in Families
20 little envelopes, our little secret.
Gran was an amazing lady, she had such a zest for life, spring in her step and a cute little sparkle in her eye. She wasn’t French but my goodness, how she wished that she was, and how she never let us forget what seemed to be her first and longest love! Whenever she spoke of all things French, be it food, wine, places she had visited - from a tiny little town on the northern tip of the Normandy coast to the glitzy glamorous hubs of the Parisienne landscape, and then to the southern shores of her beloved French Riviera, her eyes would twinkle that little bit more. Ahh, but when she spoke of the beloved elusive French man that she loved for decades, her voice may have dropped, and her lips straightened but the twinkle in her eyes was ever present. Gran just adored France and all things French. Apparently, a baguette is not a baguette unless it is banqueted on in France!!
By Francesca Lend5 years ago in Families
Purposeful Coincidence
Right before I stepped into the kitchen I felt a very gentle flay-like energy go through my ears. Then there was a nudge in my heart to go and answer the front door. “I just came out of the living room”, I thought to myself.
By Melanin Goddess5 years ago in Families
A Dream of A Whistle
A Dream of a Whistle By: Kadin Wethernolt The sun set gently in the south region of Westwinds: Senior condo complex. Ethan was visiting his grandfather late this evening; anger fluctuating in the air.
By Kadin wethertholt5 years ago in Families
The Last Flight of Diana Cooper
Diana was dying. Diana Cooper was my grandmother. My mother's mother. Diana had always been known for her razor-sharp wit, and at 70, she hadn't lost it at all. Up until recently, she was also shockingly active for someone her age.
By Sam White5 years ago in Families
A Billion Breaths
"Take this” said a strange man dressed in a long black coat, who seemingly appeared out of nowhere on Nichole’s walk home from school. For some reason she stopped cold in her tracks and gave him her undivided attention. “Hide it somewhere safe”, he said quickly. “When the time is right someone will approach you, and you will need it. DO NOT OPEN IT. DO NOT LOSE IT. DO NOT TELL ANYONE, not even your family Nichole. You’re the one. You’re the one who will save us all. You’re the only one who can know the truth and be trusted with it. Now run. They’re coming." Eleven year old Nichole ran like her life depended on it. She didn’t know why, she didn’t know where to hide the book or who that man was, but she could see it in his face, he was serious, scared, and she trusted him.
By Tasia Saumier5 years ago in Families
Useless Things
“Abigail!” I hear the full-mouthed voice of my Aunt Mel’s husband call out across the front lawn. I avoid thinking of Bruce as my uncle, as this is a time to keep my real family close.
By Rachel5 years ago in Families