humanity
Humanity begins at home.
Growing up
A is for-Africa that's where I'm from, well originally from ethiopia. I lived on a farm with my seven other siblings including my sister. Like in most parts of the world, men go out to work in the fields or do some other work that's not related to working in the fields. As most people know Africa is not a very clean place and so we have lots of diseases. While my mom was pregnant and giving birth with one of my siblings she passed away on her hospital bed. I didn't know what was happening that time, everything was a blur. I was two and a half and my closest sister was four and a half, my dad couldn't take care of us anymore because of our financial doings, so he had to put us in the orphanage with most of my siblings. We were there for a while, eating porridge and our cultural food.
By Rose Pepin6 years ago in Families
Thunderclap on a Summer Day
Morning of 6h August 11:42 AM It was a dark greyish morning, she could not tell if the sun will rise tomorrow or not. She just could not imagine another day after today, thinking unclearly and trying to wash what she saw from her mental vision, fighting her mind tirelessly she fell asleep like the 5 years old little girl she is, yet the look on her face seemed to be much older than usual on that day. Her name was Asahi*.
By Moe.Nzyslak6 years ago in Families
The Day the World Stopped
"Oh today is gonna be another busy day for me, so pick your sister up from school for me" I yelled to my half-awake daughter as I hurried out the door. I had to leave home an hour before my scheduled arrival time because traffic was always hectic during the week and I had to stop to get breakfast. I have this routine down packed, I have been running this rat race for years. I was headed to get breakfast and listening to Steve Harvey in the morning. I felt the side eyes as I laughed at Nephew Tommy and his prank call. People were so uptight they didn't value a good laugh anymore. I didn't care though, I needed my daily dose of laughter to make it through the day. I ordered my usual breakfast and some how was able to squeeze breakfast, morning car meditation, and a prayer call all in on my forty-five minute commute to work.
By Skittlez Sneed6 years ago in Families
Dump Trucks and Lucky Ducks
The couch nearly swallowed my little eight-year-old body in the firehouse on Boylston Street. My sister gazed out the window beside me watching colorful dots scurry around below, her homework resting blank in her lap. I leaned forward to assess the lucky ducks that sat on the center table. They were little rubber toys that my parents bought me for little accomplishments. One for my dance recital. One for the A on my math test. It was only the most elite of my collection since Mom said I couldn’t bring them all: complete with the princess one and police and three dogs. They were deep in secret spy discussion, very exclusive, oblivious to the human commotion around them.
By Margot Sonia6 years ago in Families
Ruby Rare
There is no one more inspirational to me than my mother. She is a rare breed. And when I say rare, I mean ruby rare. The kind of ruby rare that you think you’ll never find. Not in this lifetime. Not in the next. She is special. She is my ruby rare. I usually call her mama instead of mom or mommy, because for me, mama sounds so much more comforting. Comfort, along with love, care, and sacrifice, is what my mother represents. She raised four children, two boys and two girls. And she made it look effortless. Even in times of struggle, she never let us kids see that times were hard. She made the best effort to give us the kind of life she felt we deserved.
By Cassandra Henry6 years ago in Families
