immediate family
Blood makes you related, loyalty makes you family.
Mother: Sword & Shield
Mother may I? Mother may I tell you that whenever my Monday mornings were less than your smile would always shine through and remind me that you are greater than any of the woes in my life. Mother I have watched your life resemble that of amusement parks, ups and downs through sunny shine smiles and foggy little frowns but somehow you would always find your way back to ground level. Life is a journey and I'm just walking along a prosperous path, if not for your life lessons that you taught in my days this day would never come to pass. Fragmented memories of my youth stored away in the cabinets of my mind. From time to time I revisit the cultivated days of my youth, my innocence, infancy, my childhood, adolescence my truth.
By Marco Quijano 5 years ago in Families
Mama, eternally young
Last November, I lost both of my parents within a week of each other. They died two days apart from different illnesses. First, my father passed away and two days later my mother. At the funeral, the priest said that despite their terrible loss, these two people were blessed because they had lived together for more than 60 years and died together. They were buried in the same grave.
By George Karouzakis 5 years ago in Families
To All Mothers Past, Present & Future
I would like to honour ALL mothers: our mother Earth-Gaia, mother-figures past, present and future and my own Mother; Susan. While our time together was only a short interlude; as a seven-year-old child, losing a mother to cancer is never easy. I believe she has never left my side and is still guiding me on my own journey. Her legacy comes in the form of a book of poems she had written before her untimely passing – her hopes, loves and dreams shine through with each word she wrote.
By Lauren Bryde5 years ago in Families
a thread of legacy
Cloth has a “feel” to it. It has warp and weft, the weave that gives it heft and weight and texture. Aah – texture. I love texture. Is it smooth and silky? Is it coarse and rough? Every fabric has its own story to unfold, to become a garment, or a quilt, or a baby blanket.
By Ruth Sieber5 years ago in Families
Creating Myself
Creating Myself By Nicole Scarborough Way back in first grade, I remember a little spark being lit in my mind which told me that I would grow up to be a teacher. Through the years I nurtured that spark into a burning desire and a definite career path. I never wavered from it, never doubted it.
By Nicole C Scarborough5 years ago in Families
Boss Mom is Watching You
“There’s a difference between washing it and getting it clean.” I nearly broke down in tears the first time I felt myself about to use that phrase on somebody. Though he was an unworthy, irritated roommate who had failed to clean the remnants of his last three meals from the stacks of dirty dishes clogging our too small sink, he did not deserve to have that sentence passed on him. Stifling a laugh, or maybe a scream, I departed his company and locked myself in the bathroom to internalize my learned misery. But even there I found no solace. Streaks swam across the mirror’s fogged surface, and spare bits of chin hair remained floating in puddles of water on the counter, the remainder of another roommate’s haphazard attempt to rinse the countertop after shaving. The deluge had failed to take the hair with it as it splashed back into the sink, and dead human cells and moisture sat together in their shared sense of displacement, unable to be put out of their misery. I silenced their screams with a sweep of my hand, sending them tumbling over the edge and down the drain, to blessed peace. Would this never end? Would my roommates ever stop washing and start cleaning?
By Daniel Garvin5 years ago in Families
The lessons I learned from you
The lessons my mom taught me could be viewed as harsh concepts to acquire from a mother. But aren’t we all products of our surroundings at times? My mom reached the lowest point in her life when her brother took his own life. She did not care about report cards anymore from school. She could not get out of bed to cook anymore. She had lost herself entirely in grief. Which is something I boldly understand now. She had met a man that distracted her from the warped reality she was now facing. She started getting out of bed to see him. I was excited thinking maybe the mom I once had so much love for had returned. Until I came home from school weeks later to see nothing, but her bed frame left. My grandma told me that she was sorry. There was nothing that could have said to make her stay. I remember crying in my grandma’s recliner until the fabric was stained. I used to see this as neglect until I realized that this was her way of coping, not to forget about us. Instead, to make it feel like she could forget the depression that left her bound to sleep forever. It was not that I was not enough.
By Julian Rosas5 years ago in Families
Ten Things I Loved About My Husband's Damaged and Difficult Mother
The first thing you should know about my mother-in-law Helen is that she was a battered child. I don't know if this is something anyone can completely overcome, but I know she tried like hell. Trust is essential to building relationships, and Helen found it hard to trust anybody.
By Denise Shelton5 years ago in Families
