family
Family unites us; but it's also a challenge. All about fighting to stay together, and loving every moment of it.
The Story of Elaine and Dean
Elaine Martin grew up in a very small farmers town in the late 70's . She lived on a road that was not traveled often, only by the ones that either lived on the road or that were finding their way to the State Park that was about 10 minutes from her home by car, an hour and a half by bicycle (as she did attempt to ride to the state park on her bicycle as an early teenager one hot summer day with one of her friends that lived up the street). That was the first and last time she had ever did that!!
By Melanie Sorockti5 years ago in Humans
Letters to my ancestors
In terms of a creative project that I have worked on recently is writing letters to my ancestors. I find this very cathartic and it brings me inner peace. One of my relatives in India gave me and many other relatives our comprehensive family tree that goes back to around 1500. My ancestor then was a gentleman named Rai Gulab Chand. He was a minister for a king in Kashmir, India, but then had to move to Awadh (now Uttar Pradesh, India) and since then most of his future generations lived in and around the Jaunpur area.
By Anshuman Kumar5 years ago in Humans
Jim
My mom asked me if I would ever write a poem about you. She suggested that I recite during this night. I don’t know...it’s strange. I’ve spent years writing poems that now line the bottoms of old bags, covered in expired makeup, dusty hair ties, and old receipts. It’s 5:14 pm and it’s about 57 degrees outside. I came home early because you gave me another bladder infection from the rough sex the night before. Right now, you’re sleeping next to me, and your subtle snores are a sign that you’re resting with ease. You know, you always said that Gloria hated your snores, but somehow, I always look to that noise as a reminder of how peaceful you are. Your elbow is underneath me, and it’s so funny because I always have to be touching you in some way, shape, or form.
By Cory DeAn Cowley5 years ago in Humans
My Grandmother's Garden
I stood at the edge of my grandmother’s garden. As the rain fell, it picked up speed, changing to silver streaks against the grey blue sky. Drops dripped from my bangs and quickly ran down my nose mixing with the tears that purged from the inner corners of my eyes.
By Bethany Hill5 years ago in Humans
Ann and the Barns Where Dreams Were Lived
It was a cool autumn evening when Ann stood outside the house that she grew up in. As she stood there, memories bombarded her mind. She had a typical southern childhood. She grew up with a very loving family. They lived in a beautiful white house, and around it stood several old barns that had been there for generations. The barns were now barely standing, but as Ann looked out and the remains, she remembered them as she saw them so many years ago.
By Judith Jascha5 years ago in Humans
Watch Your Fanny Here Comes Hammy
Oh so many years ago on Dad's farm I was just a young girl. I remember the warm summer nights, the smell of the tall grass in the field and good olé' Brownie the Bull. There were also goats, cats and dogs. Most of these things were all a part of everyday life but the thing I remember most is the momma pig. Dad called her Hammy. Hammy the Pig. I really didn't know why until much later but I just thought it was a cute name. My experience that year was such that I would never ever forget. Mind you, I didn't know she was pregnant. What I did know was she just loved it when I sat on the fence and used a two by four to scratch her back. Her reaction was both funny and fulfilling. She was always sad to see me leave. We were buddies. I think I was her best friend.
By Ruth Robinson5 years ago in Humans
How fickle life can be
The shortest distance between two points is a straight line. Also, we have grown to be taught and know what separates death and life is just a thin line. In this vein, I have since been wondering how fickle life can be. You see someone today and the next day you hear they are gone.
By Olalekan Adeeko5 years ago in Humans
The Barns That Built Me
It was a simple life and humble beginning in Appalachia. My father built an old barn way out in the countryside. The barn itself appeared little more than a shack. We lived in a trailer with clean well water. The power went out frequently due to falling trees and weather. I remember making a trip to purchase a generator in a terrible snowstorm because we had no way to run the well pump, and had ran out of the water we saved. The cows, pigs, and horses were always fed, the hay was baled each year, and additions were added onto the barn as income became available.
By E.L. Martin5 years ago in Humans
