grandparents
Becoming a grandparent makes getting older something to look forward to - all the fun of parenting, without the hassle.
Eighty-four with Parkinson's
I told him, honestly, he didn’t have to come, but he insisted; the notary couldn’t be solidified without a guardian. If I wanted to move to the same state, the paperwork—with all their acronyms and fine print and extra fees—needed filling.
By Paige Fitzgerald5 years ago in Families
Cabin Fever
“Well,” said my father, staring out at the billowing snow outside our car window, “What you gonna’ do, Boy Scout?” I sighed, but smiled. For him, those weekly Troop meetings in the dusty basement were about so much more than the merit badges: they were about the spirit of it all, about putting others first. Do a good turn daily wasn’t just a motto for him, it was a lifestyle. I zipped up my coat a little further, opened my door, and walked out into the night.
By Clayton Lane5 years ago in Families
Sunday Mornings
Sunday mornings were the most beautiful time of the week. Of that, she was convinced. An early riser: age no longer permitting the much longed for 8 hours of dreamful escape that it once had, she would awaken at first light and quietly make her way down the stairs to her kitchen, tiptoeing as if in an attempt not to wake the world as it lay paralysed and unconscious around her. Any sound that filled this silent world would not only be an annoyance but an unwelcome alert, commanding men, women and children across the globe to awaken into the panic of everyday life. But not in this house – a two story, forest-wrapped haven tucked away in the outskirts of another concrete jungle.
By Callum Wareing-Smith5 years ago in Families
Grandpa, Is that You?
He was sitting by the windows, alone, sipping a cup of coffee and studying the menu. I was early for a conference on Hispanic Excellence in Television at the studio across the street, so I stopped in for some breakfast. We were both alone. I was dressed to impress, wearing a pressed green and black suit. He was comfortable in a wrinkled blue shirt, old tennis shoes and a dull gold band on the ring finger of his weathered left hand. Every now and again, he would push his wire-rimmed glasses up his nose.
By Candice Cain5 years ago in Families
Grandmother's eyes
A white house with windows into a pink-walled home, a creaky wooden deck holds a white wooden bench with paint chipping off. We sit as the sun sets with orange, yellow, and red after a day of work. The door with an iron ‘C’ marking my grandmother’s house open to let a musky air out from the spoiled food and moldy sponges, running a small hand over the iron as the adults handle the musk. I was young, like anyone would be when she watched me as my mother went off to adventures unknown. We made cookies in her absence, I cleaned my grandmother’s glasses’ for once, played with an old telephone wrapped in cloth, and on that white wooden bench with paint chipping off we creaked as my mother pulled up again.
By Julie Angleton5 years ago in Families
Winning
Taylor should have asked for her brother’s help in lugging all these heavy boxes up to the house – instead he dropped her on the sidewalk surrounded by what seemed a mountain of suitcases, boxes and pot plants. Even after all these years she found it hard to ask anyone for help and she realised as she puffed and heaved her way up the stairs that this was a habit that needed to change.
By Helen Smith5 years ago in Families
The Chest from Milan
The um... ...the news about Nonno’s passing didn’t make... as big of a commotion in the family as I thought it would... and... I know that the last year hasn’t been easy for any of us right now, so I'm sorry ahead of time... but I expected more from us.
By Luigi Alvarez5 years ago in Families
Treasure at Willow Manor
As Rayna sat starring at Willow Manor, she wondered, "How long had it been since she walked through those gates?" Her eyes welled up with tears remembering the last time she saw her beloved grandmother and Willow Manor. She was eighteen and headed to college. The first time she had ever been away from home. While grandmother visited her in Boston, she never took the time to return to the manor. Now it has been twenty years, and she had no choice but to return. Grandmother had fallen ill and needed her help.
By Laura Trombley5 years ago in Families
Little Black Book
Today feels like the day that the hurricane hits me. I tell myself this everyday while eager with anticipation. Some days are sprinkled with inspiration. I make sure to document those sprinkles, so I can use them later to create the hurricane that I’m longing for. I have a little sprinkle collector that I keep with me always. That little black notebook has seen and heard things that would make your mother blush. I mean, you just never know when the hurricane will come in. I consciously tell myself that I will be receptive to whatever form that inspiration comes in, without getting in its way. I observe everything to see if that inspiration is peeking around the corner. I also have to remind myself that while I’m focusing on what’s peeking, that the inspiration could be walking right past me. Don’t fixate is what I can hear my nana say to me softly. Just be open.
By Tiffany Miles5 years ago in Families
