humanity

Humanity begins at home.

The Exchange
The Exchange It was 3:33 a.m. It was no use. He could not sleep. He could not lose her. "God I will do anything.. Just don't take her.
By Angilena Dennard5 years ago in Families
The Haven
Sitting on her front porch, Della sighed in contentment at where her life had come to. For many years her life had seemed a struggle. A daily battle to push her optimism above her depression. It was not that she had had a neglected childhood, to the contrary, she had grown up in a loving family. They had not been rich, but she had never truly felt denied. Well apart from the cat, the horse, the monkey, or the ferret she had persistently asked her parents for. She smiled softly at the memory. The excuses they gave as to why she could not have these pets were ingenious.
By Michelle Rodier5 years ago in Families
Find Me
"B.” Silence. “B!”
By Easy Writer5 years ago in Families
Dream Again
Finally after forty days of arguing, being wounded and searching through the wilderness we made it to the garden. Forty three days ago it was my 28th birthday, I received what turned out to be the greatest gift ever. My gift was presented to me in a flamboyant gift bag. Inside the bag was two gifts individually wrapped; the first gift was a passport with a plane ticket inside, and the second gift, was a little black book with nothing inside not even any writing. Inside the box with the black book was a note that read, “in order to see what is inside the book you have to BELIEVE.”
By JY Wright5 years ago in Families
Food poverty in the UK has risen sharply for the last ten years.
HUNGRY LONDON Food poverty in the U.K. has taken a sharp turn, and it is getting worse during the coronavirus pandemic.
By Trina Tuthill5 years ago in Families
A Father-Daughter Moment
The creak of the trunk's lid was louder than it’d been years ago. The gentle smell of peppermint was the same. It brought memories of pillow fights, paint wars, and karaoke. I could almost see the crinkle in the corners of her eyes and hear her laugh as it wafted through the air. Almost. With a sigh, I reached into the trunk and pulled out a black journal with two lockets wrapped around it. The leather was soft, warm, as if the lockets were alive and giving it heat. As quietly as possible, I unwrapped the cords of the lockets. Once free, I held them tightly in my hand before setting the journal aside.
By Carmel 5 years ago in Families
We Have Rules...
As you have probably seen from my bio and profile, I am a Punjabi woman born to Indian parents in England. I was born and raised here. My skin is a light brown, my features are very Northern Indian and quite obviously, I am bilingual. When I was growing up, I realised that I was in fact, different. This did not actually come from the racial abuse that I was subjected to and it did not come from the fact that there were always questions about 'what' I was. This actually came from interaction. I realised that the rules in place for me as an Indian woman were not in place for white women. As I was growing up, I became more and more aware of this and it taught me a few things about what it means to be an immigrant's child.
By Annie Kapur5 years ago in Families
Trip to the Beach
‘A Trip to the Beach’ By: Meko Kaprelian The sun was warm, and the wind whipped up just enough to make it difficult to hear the ocean waves cresting onto the sandy shoreline. All though it was winter in Southern California, it still was a beautiful day to be at the beach. Only a few souls littered the tan strip of sand that was situated between a row of magnificent homes and the sapphire Pacific Ocean. A man fishing from the shore could faintly be seen as What looked like a young family entered the beach along a walkway that was guarded by a high wall covered in beautiful murals of random street art and graffiti. When the man and woman verified the coast was clear they untethered their white Labrador retriever and released hands with the young boy encouraging him to follow the dog down to the small breaking waves in the ocean.
By Meko James 5 years ago in Families
The Unkown
"He came back .. different." That was the only thing my grandmother said about my grandfather when he came back from the war. He left an electric, outgoing young man and came back with a quick temper and rarely smiled. It was a shock when I got the call about his heart attack, I arrived at the hospital to find my family waiting for me. My grandmother quickly shoved a worn-out black notebook in my hands with an equally worn envelope telling me to leave the hospital"Joey, go,” she sobbed.“This is how he wanted to say goodbye.” "Goodbye?"I was so confused in that moment. I’d told myself people survive heart attacks all of the time. When I eventually returned home, I learned there were some other underlying issues he never disclosed. My mind is racing as I peered out the airplane window exhaling the thought. "I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m flying to Germany at the command of a notebook" It wasn’t just a notebook though, it was his. When I opened it the first time and saw his handwriting my eyes filled with tears. He instructed me to buy a one-way ticket to Germany, fly into Frankfurt, and read one page at a time, starting when I got to the airport. I scoffed when I read the first page, there aren't many people who have money just lying around to buy a plane ticket. It seems as though my grandfather was watching over me because as soon as I rolled my eyes, money suddenly fell out of the notebook and the notebook had my full attention. Landing at the Frankfurt airport is an intimidating experience, it’s a maze of gates and terminals. With my limited experience with international airports; it was the time to sink or swim. I gathered my thoughts as I quickly exited the terminal and found a quiet seat in the corner of a coffee shop. I let out a sigh of relief over the long flight finally coming to an end. I looked at the faded journal; the tug in my chest told me it was time to start. I flipped to the second page and saw my name written between the aged lines:Joey, I know it might come as a surprise to you that I have watched you closely these last several years. You’re content with what you have and that isn’t good enough. You have always been satisfied to get the leftovers, doing fine and settling. That is something I can't let you continue. At this point I bet you're wondering at this point why you’re sitting in this airport, I know you’re hungry for more, hungry for adventure, and you know that you’re ready for the fresh steak. In the envelope that came with this journal is $20,000, you will need to convert it to continue. Your life starts now. -GrampsBaffled, I reread everything, I needed to make sure it was real. I held my breath and opened the envelope to reveal twenty thousand dollars of worn Canadian currency and I felt my mouth gape open. Where did he get all of this money? Confused, I start looking around and realize that I haven’t given much thought to my current situation. I am not fluent in German and I just flew halfway across the world. What am I thinking? I instantly think about returning home.It’s not like he would ever know, besides my family has no idea what happened or where I was. That’s when I anxiously grabbed my phone and gritted my teeth at the thought of the long-distance charges on my next bill. The phone trilled and I finally heard rustling and my grandmother’s sleepy voice. “Uh, hello?”“Gram, it’s Joe-” “OH! JOEY!” she cut me off. “No, Gram. I need to make this brief. Did Gramps ever tell you what was in the envelope? Did he ever show you his journal?” “Oh, honey... No, that was his outlet. I never wanted to cross that boundary. You know how he was. That was who he opened up to … and if he wanted me to see, he would have shown me. Honestly, I’m surprised he gave it to you. What does it say?”.“It’s his version of a treasure map and twenty thousand dollars.” I heard her sharp intake of breath and pause.“Grams, this is crazy I need to come ho-” “Joseph David! don’t you dare get on a plane! He sent you there for a reason, go with it” she hissed.I looked at my phone to find we were already at the five-minute mark. I told her I needed to get international call coverage for my phone and wished we could have talked longer. There is no way I will be able to afford my rent if I keep going, so I told her that I would call her later to talk more when I found a place to stay and got my bearings. I gathered my belongings and started heading in the direction the offboarding passengers of the latest planes were, I was looking around quickly trying to find a Bureau de change which I found after some time, I went in and got directions out of the maze while I was at it.Before I left, I downloaded a translator app and instantly felt a wave of relief now that I could communicate. I was met with a cool breeze when I stepped outside and scanned the area for a Taxi. A full line of them waited at the roadway, drivers shouting at each other, horns beeping. I took a deep breath and sprinted to the first taxi I saw and climbed into the back seat. I smiled and nodded at the driver and typed in "hostel" to my translator app to which he smiled and said “American?” I replied with “Canadian.” and a bigger smile spread across his face as he said, “I love hockey!” I chuckled, relieved that there was no need for awkward fumbling and frustration. Johann took me to a nice little hostel close to the airport. Once I got myself showered and fed, I settled onto the bed and flipped to the third page. which left me with two words. “Haus Wertheym” It turned out to be one of the oldest restaurants in Frankfurt. I sighed and looked at the clock which read 11:00 p.m.“Alright, tomorrow I’m going out.” I laid back, and before I knew it I sunk into a deep sleep. When I woke up the next morning, the last 24 hours hit me like a train. That seemed to be the only energy boost I needed, as I jumped out of my bed and got myself ready for the day. Luckily, Johann dropped me off in what seems to be the most tourist-friendly part of Frankfurt as everything I could ever need or want was within a walk’s distance of the hostel. I stepped into a charming bakery and had my breakfast. Being in Germany was surreal. After my last bite, I opened up the journal to where I left off and turned the page to see if there was anything else I should know before I head to the restaurant. Thankfully, Gramps wrote “Fourth row, fifth picture in” I was instantly confused, but that seems to be a constant theme as of late. I finished my coffee and headed out of the door. I found directions the night before thanks to the WiFi at the hostel, so I had an idea of where I was heading. This restaurant was a time capsule, filled with pictures of Frankfurt over the years. My breath caught in my throat as I took in the grandness and history.I found the image I was looking for, I instantly recognized the young man at the end.I’d seen hundreds of pictures of my grandfather, I’d never seen him like this. He looked carefree, with a wide grin on his face. He was surrounded by some of his platoon brothers and his arm was around a very pretty girl who was just as snuggled into him. My grandparents were already dating when he was deployed, who is this woman? A ping of betrayal hit me. I looked down at the journal, wondering if I even wanted to keep going. Maybe I should have taken the money and ran. “Why should I do anything he tells me? He’s not here, and it looks like he wasn’t always a man of his word either.” After collecting my thoughts and calming myself, I decided I needed to figure this out. I couldn’t go back home and tell Grams this, not without knowing the ending.I flipped through the journal and saw a name.Margrit, she was it for me.I could have stayed in Germany for her alone. Even though people were suffering, she still found a way to be everyone’s sunshine. I loved your grandmother Joe, I truly did. Margrit understood me in ways that no one ever had. I hated leaving her, but I had a life waiting for me back home. I had an obligation to your grandmother and I promised that when I made it through the war we would get married. I settled for a good life but turned my back on an incredible one. This journal is filled with my memories of Margrit. I need you to find her Joey, I need you to give this to her and tell her I’m sorry. I’m angered as I read the final line.He had settled for his life? My childhood memories come flooding back as the pieces fall together. He was there because he had to be. I felt my heart break into a million pieces for my grandmother. As I sat there feeling very heavy, I felt a sudden burst of homesickness. I decided that I needed to pass this journal on, it wasn’t meant for me or my family.I found a waiter and asked if he knew who the woman in the picture was, and he was hesitant when he replied he did and where to find her, but had a look of sadness in his eyes but sent me on my way. My final destination led me to a gravestone placed peacefully under a tree. May 5, 1920 - August 21, 2011She died a month ago. I felt something click. I set his journal on her tombstone and stood there in silence for a while contemplating my life and what I knew of his.He was miserable but did his duty.I refuse to live the same way. I am returning home a little wiser, I know I’ll be asked where his little black book is, to which I can only reply;Home. .
By Megan McCullough5 years ago in Families
Between the lines
Public speaking was never really a fear of mine, I was always confident in my ability to communicate but as I stood there in my pressed black suit, before the pews of family and friends, with my grandfather’s casket to my side, the dryness in my throat and sweat in the palms of my hands told a different story.
By Lexington5 years ago in Families
Sella
May 3rd, 2026 “If you do not open your eyes, you will never realize what possibilities are in store for you,” exclaimed the announcer.
By Vee Summers5 years ago in Families
From the Lower West Side
Youngest of five, Maryam grew up in the lower west neighborhood, the one no one makes it out of. She now filled the space of her childhood home in a way she had never before. Her brother sat across the room, arms folded defensively, and mouth formed in a pout. Maryam sighed to herself and crossed into the kitchen, grabbing her now cold tea. Her other siblings still lived in the area, the oldest two, including the one across the room she was now speaking to, moving back in after some troubles with the law or their partner or debt. She couldn’t keep it straight. Maryam was the only one who left, attending a faraway university, barely holidng on by scholarship and student loans. Despite her financial instability, she kept her vow she made at age eighteen to never come back to the lower west neighborhood. Yet, here she was, setting her tea down on the coffee table. There was still a carving of her initials on the corner which she remembered getting into deep trouble for. This was her home for so long. Now, it was a foreign space. One in which she didn’t belong.
By Alyssa Carson5 years ago in Families