humanity
Humanity begins at home.
Meditations on Washing Dishes
Washing dishes is my flow state. Each time, I follow the same routine. I throw a dish towel over my shoulder, put on my headphones, and listen to music or an audiobook, and as soon as I start to scrub down my vintage Corelle bowls, the ones my parents received as a wedding present, and plates, so like the ones my grandmother owned, my mind starts wandering through fields of words.
By Megan Irwin Harlan5 years ago in Families
Living in the Beautiful But Messed Up World
It is a complicated world to live in. Everyone has their own mentality. The fact is that the world is wonderful; each breath you take is a gift, a precious moment you cannot waste worrying about how shi*ty this world is.
By Faisal Saleem PhD5 years ago in Families
Another Letter to my Daughter
I've done a lot of thinking today, and some things need to change. Like years ago, but I'll settle for today. As a different way to approach this other than me trying to talk to you, I'm trying this letter. Read it, take your time, think about it, then talk to me when I'm home and you are calm. Please be nice to Jack and let him sleep.
By Guenneth Speldrong5 years ago in Families
Iron-clad Friendship
Dan had suffered enough of the world around him. His job at the factory ended years ago, and he was barely making ends meet with his meager social security check and odd jobs as a handyman. His friends called him “Dan the Man,” but his friends were moving away or dying on him. His wife divorced him and moved back home to her parents’ home in Ohio, and his sons and daughters lived in distant countries: Japan, Germany, Switzerland. He couldn’t just hop on a plane and visit them. He felt alone and decided to do something about it.
By Barb Dukeman5 years ago in Families
Hope Chimes
Jayla had always known she wanted to be a mother, there was just always an empty ache inside of her from an early age. She never really found it very shocking considering she hadn’t ever really met her own. She just didn’t always have the best of luck with men…or fertility. So imagine her shock when she did finally end up pregnant in times like this after a sad drunken, the world is ending so why not, one-night stand. Talk about bad timing.
By Kristen Thomas-Jones5 years ago in Families
We just knew.
“Are you seriously doing mindfulness during the apocalypse?” “The apocalypse is when we need mindfulness the most!” Milly replied with her characteristic combination of snark and cheer. She ignored the dull ache in her chest and got up onto her feet, “besides, I think we’ve turned a corner…”
By Alex Croyle5 years ago in Families
Finding Tito
It is August in Miami, Florida. I am five years old, my brother is seven. We are at home with our mom and a few relatives while my dad and uncle work on the roof. We hear loud hammering, footsteps, as well as the vibration of the portable generator that sounds like a chainsaw. The power has been out for days. My dad and uncle come back into the house. They say they got an interesting view of the neighborhood and suggested we all go out for a walk.
By Liseth Giraldo5 years ago in Families
The Light Thief
The Light Thief It was cold in Area 71…or, previously known as the Primorsky District off the Northern coast of Russia. Biting winds and sharp snowflakes that could cut into a person’s cheek like dozens of tiny knives, blindly pelted over and over, unrelenting and without any penitence. Whoever could possibly think of choosing to be there, or any other part of Russia for that matter was far beyond Margot McCallahan’s imagination. She shuddered at the thought while adjusting the meter on a long iron pole, trying to read the digital numbers around the ice build up.
By Lindsey Nelson5 years ago in Families
The Wide Wide World
S. Hileman Iannazzo June 29, 2021 Not to brag, but I learned to read the year before kindergarten. I’m not a prodigy, I just had a very dear, elderly aunt who, with great patience, taught me the basics. She was a spinster, and for a time, she lived with my family. I’m not sure how old she was, but to five year old me she seemed at least a hundred. She even smelled old. My brothers would giggle when she, without a shred of embarrassment, would let go of a dusty fart, sitting on the couch next to me. Her name was Bertha, but everyone called her Byee. We didn’t have bedtime stories in my family, but thanks to my Byee we damn sure had books.
By S. Hileman Iannazzo5 years ago in Families
