humanity
Humanity begins at home.
His Loss, Her Gain
The meals weren’t much. Enough to get by, but that’s about all there was. Dinner, lit by a nearby streetlight through the window, contained your basic needs to survive. Bills glared in hunger scratching our wallets as each passing day came up dry. Maybe this is what was meant to be. Much like how a home was designed for warmth and protection. But nothing protected us from what happened. Not even a home was a home anymore, but rather, a place once lived.
By Amey Coleman5 years ago in Families
The Bounce
Claude was thirteen. He walked down an empty two lane road, avoiding puddles so that the rain water wouldn't get to his feet, through virtually disintegrated shoes, his only means of transportation. He accompanied his older sister and his mother, on the way back to their very humble home from the local store, on Washington state's rural Kitsap Peninsula. It was summer, 1945.
By Jonathan Warren5 years ago in Families
2005 And Me Chapter One: From South Jersey To The Covenant House
Image provided by Wikipedia The year 2004 wasn’t kind to me to say the least. It was a far cry from where I was a year prior in 2003. I had graduated high school and it seemed great things were on the horizon. What a difference a year makes. My mother and I got evicted from our apartment in the Bronx, NY. Late rent and high bill payments took their toll so we were forced to leave. Our neighbor was nice enough to let my mother and I stay there for a while.
By Sakoli Norman 5 years ago in Families
Fear of Knowing Who You Are
If I got shanked for every time I heard the statement "your family are the ones you're born with" I would be dead...and I would rather be...because that's bull-crap. If we were to get into the semantics of family, then yes, they are your blood relatives. But looking at it from a different perspective, they are supposed to be there to support you, accept you for who you are, raise you to be a professional human being, and provide you with the basic necessities for survival. So in context, the idea of family is not always related to who you're stuck with.
By Maideline Sanchez5 years ago in Families
Home is Where the HEART Is
Home! Home is where the HEART is, of course that is what they always say. “Where is my heart and where is my home?” I think to myself. Through the years you move, you locate to where the jobs are, where you think the best schools are, where you can find yourself. Maybe you're moving to something or maybe you're moving away from something. Let me tell you about my home. I live in a small town in East Texas. Since my husband passed away and my grown children have move out on their own, I bought a house right next door to my sister. I live in the town I grew up in where I have many friends and many connections. I guess you would say that I have been home in many places.
By Stephanie Osteen5 years ago in Families
On My Mind
I hated that I had to struggle so much. I hated that my body always seemed to be against me. Like when I was constantly sick as a kid, like how my parents rarely had health insurance with good coverage, like how even after I got my tonsils removed, I still got sick all the time.
By Caitlyn Curry5 years ago in Families
Small Town Love
The year is 2003. I am a high school senior in a small town. I’m probably wearing LEI’s and white Airforce 1s. I am popular and involved in my high school. Life is good. Each year my school gives a “Senior Gift.” For one group it was a set of encyclopedias. Another graduating class donated beautiful flags from all over the world as décor for the school.
By Kendra Bingham5 years ago in Families
Operation= Shoebox??!
It all started years ago, somewhere between ages eleven and fifteen, my Mother started collecting shoe boxes. She has always been a little eclectic, maybe borderline hoarder, but with an inclination for organized hording. She has always had a knack for sale shopping, and would stock up on a lifetime supply of the most random things you could think of. Living room furniture because storage for canned goods, boxed of noodles and granola bars that she had doubled and tripled coupons on, in order to leave the store with them owing her money, instead of the other way around. With a family of six, who could blame her? She did the best she could, and her best kept us fed and secure.
By Emily Atchley5 years ago in Families
A Cry In Aisle Three
Before Andrea opens her eyes, she feels it, the rigid cold air around her. If not for her warm sanctuary under her comforter, she would be freezing. She buries herself further under the covers dreading getting herself out of bed. She tries to cuddle up next to her husband, Will, though she is rebuffed when he rolls over attempting to steal the whole comforter. Defeated, she opens her eyes. The clock on the nightstand reads 5:30am. Reluctantly, she sits up, moaning and shivering. As she sits on the side of the bed, her feet feel for her shearling-lined slippers. Eventually, she locates them and even manages to get each one on the correct foot. She forces herself to stand. Although she is wearing flannel pajamas, she still holds herself and occasionally rubs her upper arms to stay warm. She makes her way across the room to the window. It is still dark outside, but she can see that everything is covered in white, the wind is blowing hard and she wonders if it is still snowing or if the wind is just blowing the snow that has already fallen.
By Robyn Moss 5 years ago in Families
When Me and My Family Went Missing in the 1970s
A true story. My entire family, my mom, dad, me and my brother all went missing in 1979. I was 14, a freshman in high school. I considered this quaint little town my home. It’s wonderful people, my friends. I was on the drill team; which I loved! I played softball in the summers. I was on a bowling team in the winter. It’s where I became a Girl Scout, rode my bicycle down the Jumbo. Sang songs with my best friend out on the lawn (it was the 70s!). Where I would sing way too loud to the radio and records in my room to the dismay of the boy next door. (I owe him an apology!) Rode my bike everywhere! It is where my grandmother died. Where I got my first job. It is where I grew up. It was home.
By Paula C. Henderson5 years ago in Families
