immediate family

Blood makes you related, loyalty makes you family.

Coming home
Saum's tight grip had left an imprint on on her black leather book. The once shining, and firm black exterior had born the brunt of many years of crying and nostalgia as Saum sought comfort in it's contents during the 6 years she spent training and working as a nurse in London's grey haze. Now, the greying, wrinkled book cover was bearing the brunt of weeks of excitement. Saum was standing in an immigration line at Salisbury airport. She could hear the cheers, and ululating of relatives reuniting for the first time in a decade. No-one would be waiting for her outside the doors, she didn't have enough to write to her relatives to let them know of her unexpected return. They wouldn't be expecting her for another 4 years, when she finally attained permanent residency and could leave the UK without the concern of not being approved a visa to return.
By nyasha tsimba5 years ago in Families
Wise Grandmother
The day is warm, but the weather has shifted from feeling like almost spring to winter again, as it often does this time of year. It is now wildly windy, the type of wind that makes any small task seem like a complete inconvenience.
By Sheena Dressel5 years ago in Families
Choices
“I’m so proud of you!” Maia shouted over the loud music at her older sister Honey. They sat in their VIP section, popping Champagne bottles at The Hall, Honey’s new lounge.
By Mikia Washington5 years ago in Families
Inheritance
It’s been eight years since my father died and as I stand here by this by this beautiful loch, the memories of it all dance across my mind, as fresh and real as the grass beneath my feet. It’s been eight years since he passed and eight years since he left me alone in an attic picking up the pieces that would change my life forever. I stood there in the empty eerie silence and began to pack up what remained of my father’s life. The boxes quickly began to pile up, until all that remained was one last shelf of books and an old ornate writing desk. My father loved to read, he would get lost in the worlds created in the pages of his books, he would always tell me of the adventures we could go on just by turning a page. Lost in the memories and sadness of his passing, I sat down to pack the last shelf. Amongst the books on this shelf was a small black notebook, hidden behind some larger books. At first glance there was nothing special about it and as I casually leafed through it, I realised a few of the pages didn’t make any sense, but in my haste to finish and get out I tossed it into the draw of the old writing desk and forgot about it. Once I finished packing the rest of the boxes and I headed downstairs and arranged to have a few bits of furniture, including the old writing desk to be delivered to my small Melbourne apartment.
By Amelia Ngavisi5 years ago in Families
The Story of My Father
I want to tell you the story of my father. Even as I begin I am certain of my failure, left with the empty certitude of knowing the narrowness of my understanding, the limitations of my memory. Whatever details of his life I might recount, they are already shaded, coloured by what came after, developed with the chemicals of remembering which produce an accuracy that only further indicts their deficiencies. My father appears to me now as if through the eye of a keyhole, a lingering shadow on a far wall, a one-sided conversation, a past which is obstructed by the stubbornness of my selfishness and childish innocence.
By Eliza 5 years ago in Families
Who knocks?
It is quite beautiful in the Berkshire Hills of Massachusettes. It is very lovely, especially around autumn time. Many people drive through the Berkshire Hills to see the foliage every year. My hometown is Lee and it was founded in 1777. There is a lot of little towns and antique shops throughout this lovely countryside. I love to travel back home, but not this time under these circumstances. My favorite Aunt had passed away due to her illness. I had spoken with her earlier in the week, and we had made plans for the Easter Holiday season next month. She was such a joyful woman and very kind. She was a sewing and quilting woman and has many blue ribbons from winning at the county fairs. Her donations to her community and to other Countries were her way of helping the world. And she did. I always loved being around her. She had a wealth of knowledge and wisdom that I would absorb in our conversations. Every time I would visit her home, we always had our "tea" time. "Tea and Treats" she always called it. And how I always looked forward to it. I now feel dreadful as I pull into the driveway."Get yourself together girl" I told myself as I wiped a tear from my eye and stepped out of my car. "I'm here Aunt Bev" I said aloud. "I'm here."
By Wendy Welcome5 years ago in Families
Tea Stained Skin
Everyone always says that I have this soulless look in my eyes and that my eye color is black. What if I am soulless? What if the towers of pain that I have locked away from the outside hold no depths or definition to whom I truly am? What if my soul wanders this earth searching for a being while my body floats through the air?
By Katrina Lee5 years ago in Families
Carly's Steps
Carly picked up her little black book and started to write - Dear Mother, Today I made it down to post office and I attempted to send my college application. I turned around and walked out cause the line was too long and I was on my lunch break. I’ll try again tomorrow after work when I have more time.
By Julie batt5 years ago in Families
Huckabee's Fortune
Laying in bed, I heard the grandfather clock in the hall chiming. “One, two, three, four, five…”, I whispered to myself.
By Rhi Jade5 years ago in Families
ALEXIS
Alexis always knew today would come. She ran around the house looking for her purse as she grabbed for her wrap-around pants and loosely fit blouse. Some might say she dressed to open, and casual but Alexis was a free spirit. God only knows she had spent enough of her life confined. Running out of her apartment, which was a large country cottage that once used to be the towns maternity house. She was on her way to the hospital. Running across the street to the steps she stopped. Standing at the door she closed her eyes. With great anticipation she could not wait another moment. She reached out to open the door. She walked the hall of the hospital so many times. But for some reason today her feet could not seem to find their way. So many memories, and now she is coming out the other side. She was so overwhelmed! So deep in her thoughts, Alexis was unaware of the man speaking to her. “Do you need some help? You appear to be lost.” Lost! Now that was funny! If anyone knew this hospital, it was certainly her. Looking up barely taking notice, she said, “excuse me.” This stranger had taken hold of her arm. Where he touched her, the skin was burning. Alexis pulled back, as if this strange man was invading her space. “I am a student here I have come to get my final grade.” You have been interning at this hospital? “Yes, and tonight I will be graduating.” “Excuse me” Alexis muttered, and she found herself running down the hall. Alexis wondered why she felt such an urgency, as to run from this stranger. Feeling bothered by his touch. It burned her right through her skin until every nerve and fiber in her body was on edge. He probably thought she was quite rude running off.
By Julie Hanft5 years ago in Families
One Last Day
“He’s just out there…waiting for you. He knows what is going to happen, he knows this is goodbye for both of you.” Her heart stuttered, stalled, then started pounding a hard unforgiving rhythm. This all started with a letter…no, this all started with death…but that wasn’t entirely true either…this all started with love…
By Jennifer Renee5 years ago in Families
If you're watching this, I'm not dead
After his shift at the office, Greg Greaves went to his favorite Chinese restaurant on West 38th Street. Thank God, it’s Friday, he thought to himself as he exits the train station. Greg is usually average. He’s lived in the same run-down studio apartment since he graduated from college, although he could afford something nicer. He worked the same job for the past eight years, trying to climb up the corporate ladder. Greg didn’t allocate time for anything other than work, not even a relationship. He wasn’t homely or anything but dating didn’t fit into his mundane schedule. Under his daily suit and tie, he had a robust build, and an olive complexion to match his black wavy hair. A few of the women he worked with have even made jokes about leaving their husbands for him.
By Azarra Lucas5 years ago in Families