immediate family
Blood makes you related, loyalty makes you family.
How Do I Explain This To My Kids?
I asked the question to myself frequently, pretty much daily, while I was raising my kids. “How do I explain this to my kids?” There were times I just couldn’t explain it, and there were times I didn’t want to explain stuff. Other times, I’d attempt to explain, but the kids may or may not have listened.
By Mary Lane Cryns aka Melody4 years ago in Families
The Cliffs and the Ponds
When I ride past the frozen pond in the wintertime, I get the feeling of family fun. I mean so much fun. Only none of us are brave enough to confront the frozen pond that sits across the street from our family home in Sugar Brook. The pond that sits beneath the Cliffs condominium, a place where my Auntie always daydreamed about living in without her children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews. The frozen pond separated and illustrated two definitions of suburban life. Once the frozen pond was reached, a suburban neighborhood for families was left behind and a bachelor and bachelorette lifestyle began. The pond held up tons of condominiums and single suburban apartments above. These particular condo’s and apartments had different living arrangements. Meaning couples and single occupants. On one side of the street sat condo’s and apartments. On the other side residential houses. When I was young, I often visit my uncle in Oakbrook. When I entered the apartment complex, the apartments were decorated with beautiful thin wooden planks. The apartments had a very nice mixture of brown delicate woods. Often, people rented there and commuted to Detroit everyday. The apartment complex was very well lit and sat near condominiums which had a pond near by. Far deep beneath the condominiums was a beautiful river water front, which encouraged people to live there even more. During the wintertime, I could see a glare of light from the street lights. During the summer when the pond was thawed, tons of ducks would swarm the area looking for bread crumbs and other foods. Fisherman’s could be seen nearby at the riverfront in boats and at the edge of the river. During the summer when the pond was thawed, I would engage in barbecues with my family. Afterwards, I would cross the street and head towards my best friends. Me and my best friend never mentioned the pond. We never talked about the different world I experienced. She never knew that I had witnessed a whole different way of life. I never told her about the ducks, the ponds, the fisherman’s and the back seat rides in the Mercedes station wagons with my cousins. The reason is because to me, it was a different world of space. After I left my uncle’s bachelor pad and I crossed the street, me and my best friend proceeded to Sugar Brooke Park where our friends were. We then proceeded to our favorite corner store Dairy Mart, to load up on snacks. I loved the hostess honey buns, and Mamba’s. My best friend loved Cheetos and Skittles. We would make the corner store walk through a sandy pathway trail in 20 minutes. As soon as we got back to the playground we opened our Faygo sodas and gazed across the way at another suburban apartment complex, Lake in the Woods. Me and my best friend would often play all day until the streets light came on and then we would sprint out of the circle and back to our homes. All my childhood when I pass the frozen pond in my uncle’s Mercedes station wagon, a fun feeling came over me. I knew that when I got home, my favorite poodle Sergio would bark in the window as we pulled up. My aunt’s famous chili with steak pieces would be waiting. After I passed the pond in the Mercedes station wagon, a fun feeling would come over me. I would dash in the house and drop my back pack in the living room. I would search through all the blankets in their basement, for my sleeping bag. I would run across the street to my best friends for some hot chocolate and apple cider. Shortly after we would share homework assignments and watch television.
By Tanea Hill4 years ago in Families
Those anticipatory months
I got married in July 2006 to my lovely wife Smita in India. Due to work I had to return to Canada in two weeks. Soon after I applied for Smita’s immigration. I think usually it used to take four or five months for immigration but it ended up being 14 months before Smita could immigrate to Canada.
By Anshuman Kumar4 years ago in Families
The COVID-19 Lockdown Has Created A Tradition for My Family
I have been living with my brother and sister-in-law in an 86m2 apartment in Hanoi, Vietnam for eight months. Before July 2021, I was the only one who stayed at home regularly because I work virtually. My brother and his wife both had full-time jobs and had to work at their office.
By Chau Trieu4 years ago in Families
Christmas Traditions
Winter was always the most beautiful season, in Avery's opinion. The icicles like sharp knives appear on trees, cars, and houses. The white snow covered everything in sight, glistening in the snow and just so pretty. All the kids laughing and throwing snow at one another, building snowmen and creating angels on the ground. A nice cup of cocoa to warm your frozen hands as you curled up in front of the fireplace and listened to stories of past winters that your parents shared. Skating on the frozen pond only a few yards from home.
By Alaia Shannon4 years ago in Families
Grandmother's Hands. Second Place in SFS 6: Green Light.
My sister Gisela had already moved out of Portland so it was just me and mom when dad died—five years ago this month. I had my own place back then, but naturally I spent a lot of time at mom’s house when it happened. We would play the piano together or watch Gilmore Girls, but when I would start to cry, she would just sit there watching me for a little bit before standing up and silently excusing herself. She didn’t shut down or stop living or overcompensate with work or drinking, the way people sometimes do. She just wasn’t available.
By Alejandro de Gutierre4 years ago in Families
"The Road We Travel"
In my recent article, "The Truth of Being a Survivor" I spoke about what it means to me to be a survivor. This has been put to the test this past week which pushed my internal boundaries and brought up many memories of what I went through. So I would like to say to anyone reading this, "it is never ok to abuse someone. It is not your fault if they do. No matter what they say you did not deserve it and there is no excuse for it." I saved myself and was able to escape my abuser. It was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life and definitely the scariest. I can honestly say leaving the situation creates an insurmountable fear inside of you that keeps you numb to the pain and almost too paralyzed to leave. I endured for 5 years before I finally found the strength to escape from it. For the past 2 years, I have been "free from the situation" but I have not truly been free. The memories haunt me. The flashbacks threaten to drown out the present. And along with these is a nagging type of paranoia. "Am I truly safe?" "Will he find me?" "What happens if he does find me?" It takes a long time to practice telling yourself you are safe and they cannot come after you. But what about the abusers who still are given access to us? Parents or family members, who are not restricted from us? What happens to those of us who can only improve on our situation, but are never actually saved? How do we overcome our fear? How do we find a sense of safety? I do not have the answers to any of these questions. I am still working on how to do this for myself and for my children. But I do know this, it is absolutely vital to the healing process that we have a safe environment. That means being safe physically, emotionally, mentally, and psychologically. All of these create an environment in which we can design a semblance of safety, for ourselves and others. For my children and me, this means talking about our experience and not hiding it. For me especially, I need to vocalize what I went through in order to heal from it. Hiding the details does not promote healing inside. So tonight, I wish to share my last and most recent abusive situation with my ex-husband. While I was visiting his family in another state, I was denied the ability to speak with my oldest son for months on end. I did not hear from him or see him and I began to worry about him. My ex-husband made a joke one night that if something happened to him and he died, his dad likely would not tell me since we weren't on speaking terms. While I did not believe him at first, I looked into it and when I called the state that my son was currently living in, I was told by the records department they did indeed have a child who was the same age as my son who had passed away recently. In order to determine if it was my son, I had to send a copy of his social and birth certificate and the city he lived in. It took 3 grueling months before I received an answer: it did not match the deceased child. This was the night after my ex-husband assaulted me and I broke down calling my son's dad and demanding to speak with him. My son got on the phone and the moment he said hello to me I cannot explain the amount of relief that flooded through me. I burst into tears, trying to hide it from him. This is the same son who has not been with me for the past 6 years and I cannot begin to say how much pain this has caused me and how much I miss him every moment of every day. The emotional torture of this particular instance is not one I share easily, but tonight I feel like I need to finally get it off my chest and speak about it. I know I am not the only one who has experienced something as traumatic and manipulating as this. Abusers will literally say and do anything to hurt us. It is up to us to pave the way to healing and find our way out of the darkness. For me, that road is me fighting for my son, no matter how that may look. It is finding small ways to help all of us feel safe and always know that we are loved. It is talking about what we went through. It is finding the courage to find that fear and overcome it. Tonight, I feel like a weight has been lifted off and I will continue to fight. Every moment of every day, I will fight. Tonight, I feel brave inside. Tonight this is who I am.
By marion scott4 years ago in Families
Meet me Underneath the Pear Tree
Not long after she arrived she watched him ride off in the distance. She waited too long. She felt as though a wave had crashed over her, her entire world stopped spinning and she was left motionless. She stood there holding her ever growing belly while the rain poured down upon her, her wet hair slowly fell upon her face. Leaning against the Pear tree she slid down and held her knees, looking, willing, and hoping that he could sense that she was here. That she was right here where they agreed they’d meet. She sat until she couldn’t stand the cold wet clothes clinging to her body.
By Nichole Ailshire4 years ago in Families
