parents
The boundless love a parent has for their child is matched only by their capacity to embarrass them.
Cece And Me
The dense Dorset mist tightens its grip around the house, creeping in through keyholes and disappearing with the woodsmoke that warms the inside air. The faint clank of stacking china echoes down the corridor, and an image of the lamp on the side table forms on the frost-bitten window pane: an ornate, gold-plated mask over the hostile night. It’s just the two of us – Cece and me – the small black notebook on the floral footstool between us. Embers pop shyly in the fireplace, as if hoping we won’t notice. Theresa, our old chocolate lab, is snoring on the low, striped sofa which lines the wall on the far side of the sitting room.
By Winnie Stubbs5 years ago in Families
A Change of Plans
Michael Brown rubs sleep from his eyes and dangles his legs over the side of the bed, his seven-year-old toes another day closer to the floor. He pulls off his Spiderman pajama top, stumbles from his room and opens the door to the bathroom where his grandfather and retired Philadelphia cop George Brown is sitting on the toilet reading the newspaper and smoking a cigar.
By Kevin Sparkman5 years ago in Families
Unknown enemy
How many of us have realised the closest people in our lives are our worst enemies? When I was 18 years old, I had ran away from home; I wanted to be with my boyfriend, now husband. Obviously, my whole family was not happy about it, so I was basically cut off; which at that moment I did not care as long as I would be with my boyfriend. He ended up bringing me to his home and had went inside to tell his mother to come out to tell her what happened. I was nervous, obviously because I would have been homeless or he would have said my mom said no, so you got to go... things could have happened this way. BUT IT DIDNT. I moved in and was living with his family for 4 or 5 years until they moved out and left us this their place, which was kind of them . But while I was living with them for those years, little did I know I would have to go through some shit( excuse my language). My boyfriend at the time, you know we were still pretty young and so he would leave me at home while he was hanging with his friends; basically leaving me to his mother. I won't lie, she treated me well AT FIRST; key word: AT FIRST. I felt loved and felt cared, everything was great and then we got married. She would tell her sisters and friends, she finally has a daughter and that made me feel wanted and loved like I said previously. One day, we were cleaning the home and my boyfriend at the time was telling me to wash the dishes, which i agreed to since I like washing dishes anyway. Apparently, I was washing them too slow (?) because she came by , grabbed the sponge and basically moved me over and took over. I was confused, so I went to try and help my husband clean the living and yes before you ask , we got married but were still living with them; we were still young and didn't know much about being an adult. Anyway, my husband asked me why I wasn't washing the dishes and I told him exactly what happened and he walked over to his simply and kindly asking why she stopped me from washing the dishes and she didn't say a word. So, I just ended up helping him clean and bringing the bed that was out there into the room. While we were pushing it, she comes out from the kitchen and starts yelling, I was so confused especially since there was a language barrier. My husband was yelling back at her, then she did the unknown and got in my face and basically, fuck my dad .. which made me even more confused because why bring up my father? I went in the room and let my husband handle whatever that needed to be handled and he came in the room and told me what she was saying , because not only did she say fuck my dad but she cursed us to never have kids,which broke my heart immediately and so I told my husband I would go to my family's home. My father picked me up and I left for a couple hours, I was hesitant to go back, but I did. I went straight to the room and went to sleep. A couple months later, we ended up moving to a different apartment complex; the one that I am now living in now. After that incident, everything was going well. Time goes by and I'm noticing little things. This one day, she and her other sons were leaving and she told my husband and I to clean everywhere, I told my husband that I would clean and for him to just relax; I wanted to show his mother like I know how to clean; deep clean. Later on, she came back and she seen the home was spotless and I was smiling looking at he reaction. Then she said the unthinkable, she said, "Wow it's so clean", my husband tells her that I was the one that cleaned. Then she says, "No, she's not the one that cleaned, you were the one" and my husband says no I didn't even do anything and that I was the one that cleaned. My smiled faded because I wanted to do this for her and she totally made it seem like I didn't know how to clean. Few months passed, I found out I was pregnant. I thought I would be well rested and just lay in bed all day, but instead she would have me cleaning everywhere especially the bathroom and tell me either the office would do their annual check in or that people would come stop by or visit from a different state. It ended being a lie, as I was waiting for whoever to show up, but no one did. My husband at that time would be leaving till the next day. I would always wait for him, so I can open the door for him till one night. I was doing my usual wait and then when he messaged and told me to open the door, mind you before everyone went to sleep,she came in my room and told me not to open the door for him. So, my husband was telling me to open and I was hesitant because I did not want to get in trouble; but the reason I was there was for my husband, not her or his brothers. So, I got up and and went downstairs to open the door and as soon as my husband came in, she raced down. Sh started yelling and got in my face and then my husband started yelling at her back, then my brother in law came down and took her upstairs. A couple weeks later, my husband again was out and I had woken up on time for him to message me telling me he was on his way home but it was 5 or 6 int he morning. I went downstairs and seen one of my brother in laws watching TV, so I sat down and watched with him. Then my husband knocked, and my brother in law stepped out to talk to him and then called me out. I had planned that day to go to my family's home(REMEMBER THIS ). We went inside and went into the room and laid down together and fell asleep. I heard his mother opening the door and saying something and then closed it. I woke up and got myself ready and waited for my dad to pick me up. Once he arrives, He greets everyone and then his mother comes to the door and tells him, I need to speak to you and your wife when you're free and then we left. I did not know what she was going to say but I ignored it. Couple days later, I slept over at a friends place and my brothers messaged me bribing me to go eat with them little did I know something was going on.
By Joy Ameena5 years ago in Families
Mermaid. Top Story - February 2021.
My mother was a drunk and a mermaid. Or a mermaid and a drunk. That’s the problem with words: whatever you say first sounds like it causes the second. But sometimes people are just two things at once. And more likely three. See, my mother wasn’t a mermaid because she was a drunk. And she wasn’t a drunk because she was a mermaid. She was just both, as long as I can remember. Oh, and a dreamer. A drunk, dreaming mermaid that drank and dreamed.
By P. D. Murray5 years ago in Families
The Greatest Treasure
I love summer storms. Curled up with my blanket, I close my eyes and listen to the rain pouring down in the darkness of my backyard. Wetness slowly creeps along the concrete floor towards where I sit under the little covered porch enjoying a glass of whatever red was open. My little people are finally asleep and I’m grateful to have a bit of quiet time tonight. I take a deep breath then exhale slowly, partly to take in the smells of summer that are slowly turning to fall but mostly to expel the weight of adulting I’ve been carrying for the last while. I rarely feel sorry for myself but sometimes I mourn the loss of what I thought my life would be before it became what it is.
By Jacqueline Grisé5 years ago in Families
My Dad is Magic
As a child, I remember my father always carrying around a red handkerchief, a small multi-use tool (which included a hammer, blade, wrench, and Phillips screw driver all in one), and a small black book with a pen. With these items in his possession, anything was possible. ANYTHING. According to our family, my father is considered a Gomez legend. Although I truly enjoy listening to all of their stories about him, it is not necessary for me to learn about his greatness because I had my own first-hand experiences.
By Summer Gomez5 years ago in Families
Fatherhood Ball
I am a proud descendant of many generations of fathers. My father John was a father, as was his father - Donald, and his father before him - Erva. Preceded by Harry North, John North, John North, Zachariah North, Edward North, James North, James North, John North, Lord Dudley North, Sir John North, John North, Edward North, Roger North, Roger North, Thomas North, and Sir Thomas De Northwood - born in 1350.
By Ryan North5 years ago in Families
A Mother's Gift
Andrea hesitated at the threshold of her mother’s tiny Cape Cod. “Almost done,” she spoke aloud. “Just one more room.” The old bronze key stuck in the lock, but by now Andrea knew exactly how to jiggle it to make it give way. She stepped into an empty kitchen, cupboards bare and floor swept clean. Gloves tucked into coat pockets, she hung the parka on a hook, followed by the scarf. She paused, savored the softness of the scarf beneath her fingers, and imagined her mother knitting away, needles clacking while she rocked to a rhythm only she heard.
By bcornelius795 years ago in Families
