parents
The boundless love a parent has for their child is matched only by their capacity to embarrass them.
A First Visit To Family Court; A Dad’s Perspective
I’d never been to court. I’d never even anticipated going to court, because this was never part of the plan. Even in the contingency plan for if this sort of thing happened (“this sort of thing” being the total annihilation of our marriage, the end of the life I/we had been building, and the utter dissolution of my sense of security and hope for the future) this wasn’t supposed to happen.
By Aaron Corey4 years ago in Families
THE LAST PERFORMANCE
Where I come from in Southern California, people don't talk about our last performance. It’s not considered socially acceptable dinner talk, even though most of us go to great expense to prepare in advance for that end-of-life finale. If it ever comes to talking about my mother, I have a different reason.
By James Dale Merrick4 years ago in Families
Riding with Holly
It is Friday afternoon, and I am anxiously waiting, kneeling on the couch backwards to look out the living room window. I keep my eyes peeled on the driveway, waiting for her, for Holly, my mother. My two older brothers, Danny and Michael, are elsewhere, at this point knowing better than to bother waiting around for her. She is supposed to pick us up every other Friday evening at five o'clock, and return us home, clean and fed, on Sunday afternoon. That's the arrangement, but it rarely goes that way. Sometimes she is gone for weeks, sometimes months. Many Friday nights have ended with me still kneeling on the couch waiting for her until it grows dark outside and I finally leave my post, disappointed beyond belief. But at eight years old, I'm still young and dumb enough to wait. I still believe her when she says she will come. And on this particular night, she does. When her car pulls into the gravel driveway, we say our goodbyes to granny then rush out the door to pile into the maroon sedan with fabric interior, kicking aside the trash piled up on the floors. The smell of cigarettes clings to the seats and the ceiling but I don't care. It smells like her and I breathe it in. She is here, like a summer thunderstorm, no bra in a black floral dress, blue eyeliner around her green eyes, hair pulled back into a ponytail with unruly bangs falling over her eyes. She's really not beautiful, but she's cute, and I take in the sight of her as if she is a miracle. She had been lost to me for so long, and so every time I see her I wonder if it will be the last. I examine her closely, the fine curly hairs on the nape of her neck, the butterfly tattoo stamped on her shoulder, the rose one on her ankle. I drink in her laugh, the way she holds the steering wheel as if she would drive us all away from here. But instead, she drives us to McDonald’s for our Happy Meals, blaring 90s hit country with the windows down to let out the perpetual cloud of Marlboro smoke. Tonight she is not drunk yet. She is functioning, happy, talkative. She asks about our lives, our friends, how school is going, what we have been reading and learning about. As we crawl through the drive thru line Mom lights another cigarette, and then another, the smoke pouring out the half down windows, the boys already arguing. One by one she tosses our Happy meals into the back seat, and relishes in the few moments of silence as she pulls out onto the main road, heading to the grocery store.
By Sharon Barrett4 years ago in Families
Life as A New Mother
For as long as I can remember, I have always dreamed of being a mother to a child I could call my own. For a while, however, that was all I could honestly believe it was. A fantasy, a delusion, a pipe dream. The closest I ever came to having that was taking care of my two younger siblings growing up and a Child Development class my senior year of high school. It was a lost or misguided dream that I was never going to have the chance to actually live out.
By Victoria Wadsworth4 years ago in Families
Mentor Raising A Prophet
It has been a few days I know, but lets just say that I had a snafu back home and it was hard for me to attend the session. How you been? Well me on the other hand, I was thinking of a time where I was afraid of being a father. Do not get me wrong, I love kids to a certain extent but oh man, they can be a handful, especially when you are the one that dictates their every move and motivation.
By Thomas Benson4 years ago in Families
Green Means Go
Most people don’t realize how much a gift they are or what a gift of a person they have until it‘s either too late or it catches them by surprise. I have always been taught that gifts are to be cherished and sometimes nurtured. So many people nowadays have forgotten how to do that. So, I’ve been sent to help them remember.
By Samirra Elsaieh4 years ago in Families
Life With Mom
When I was six years-old my mom began drinking. While my father was at work she screamed and yelled at me all day long. She drank increasingly. I didn’t know why. Sometimes I called my dad at his office and asked when he was coming home. He knew when I called there was trouble.
By Caroline-StoryGirlCA4 years ago in Families
Listen with your heart
Do you believe in signs, fate, or destiny? I am always looking for signs. Help from the universe with direction. Life is complicated; I'm sure we all can agree on that statement. I was very young when I started to believe in listening and paying attention to your soundings. I can thank Dinsey's Pocahontas for that.
By Melissa Bezborotko 4 years ago in Families
