Family relationships, in all their complicated glory. Families explores the intricacies of being parents, siblings, mentors, and friends.
Magic of The Past
I sometimes miss my childhood days. The summer evenings beneath the orange sunset sky chasing lightning bugs. The spring days, spending hours in the field searching for four-leaf clovers. Fall, looking for witches and spooky ghosts around every dim corner. Most of all I miss Christmas time when my granny would come to visit for an entire week. I still remember the sound of her 1964 Ford Fairlane, which was the most exciting clamor and clangor in the whole wide world.
My grandfather was right about many things. He called the World Series winners many years in a row, how we’d put a man on the moon, Nixon – he knew things, or he was an excellent guesser. His 86 years of experience included both good things and bad, the good things being what he shared with his grandkids. Besides his love of chess, he loved making us laugh. He would take us into his lap and point to his mustache. We’d go to touch it, and he’d pretend to bite our fingers. My father did that, too, come to think of it. We’d break out into a fit of giggles.
You Don't Talk to Your Parents, and That's OK
In today's society, it is not uncommon for parents and their children to have estrangements with one another. Especially when our family morals have changed over time, and our awareness of our mental health has gained precedence in our day to day lives.
The Life I Choose
The dawning light wakes me as it eases through the bedroom window of the cabin. I slowly roll myself from the bed, pulling the blankets back up to snuggle the resting form of my husband.
The Anniversary Waltz
The morning haze of June 10, 1994, was particularly tiring for Shelley. Two months of pregnancy have started taking its toll, from the dreaded morning sickness to the backache that no Advil could kill. Bumming around the house, a restless Shelley figured today was just going to be another typical hot summer day. Mark, who started work earlier in the day, came home early, catching her off guard.
An Open Letter to My Future Daughter
Dear Precious Daughter, I have cherished and loved you since before you were born. This world isn't always easy; it's never perfect, but it's so much richer with you here in it.
My Naughty Little Sister
Intro When I was around fourteen years old, I walked into my local bookshop, perusing the shelves, most likely looking for the next Harry Potter instalment, when I saw it. I audibly gasped. A beautiful hardback, duck egg blue cover with the looping calligraphy of "50th Anniversary Celebration" written in gold. There was the unmistakable, pencil-sketched illustration of a sour-faced tiny girl with red blotchy cheeks, a deep frown, and a pet lip—My Naughty Little Sister.
Mom wasn't always in the mood for a bedtime story. But maybe if I won this youth violin competition, or did particularly well at the piano recital, I'd get one. My chances went up if other parents sincerely praised me in front of Mom. They weren't really stories so much as cultural proverbs. As a child I used to have whole stacks of these Chinese proverb story cards. They had a drawing on one side and the story written out in Chinese on the back.
Kids Say the Darndest Things
The unfiltered truths from the fruits of our loins. And the creepiest things they've ever said. Help?
Do or do not - there is no try. The ins and outs of one of the most difficult jobs on earth: parenting.
Nature vs. Nurture
What plays into our humanity? Nature vs. Nurture – how two factors affect one individual.
https://yoWhen I was younger, I painted my pictures with words. In my childhood, I explored the universe through books, fiction and non, and it seemed natural that writing was the art form running strongest through my blood. I learned to crochet – sort of - at the age of seven. To this day, I can create a chain of yarn from here to the moon, but I never mastered adding additional rows and the repetition soon bored my active adolescent mind.
Wrapped in Love
Few things in life can compare to the warmth and security of being wrapped in the arms of a loved one. Whether that’s a parent holding their child close, or feeling the embrace of your lover, there is something inherently calming in that moment.
A Meditative State in Just Being
6:27 am. I open my eyes just enough to see the morning hues slithering themselves through the side of the slightly drawn curtain. Mmmmm. Should I or should I rather not? I look over to my left and see my two year old sun kissed prince is fast asleep, so, I might as well.
Shark Week 1991
I was an eight year old girl living in Alexandria Kentucky, a short hop over a bridge to Cincinnati, Ohio. A popular local news station was promoting the opening days of Shark Week in tandem with the opening of the tri-state areas first IMAX theatre. When the art contest was announced, my sister, three years my senior, my mother’s favorite daughter was upset because she was too old to enter. Mom encouraged me to submit an entry. Of course I would, I love creating new things. I wanted to draw a pretty shark with flowers in her hair.
My head leaned against the entrance door to hear the sound of a high-pitched doorbell ring, then I quickly stepped back, anticipatingly waiting patiently for him to greet me with his subtle wit and nutty charm. My eyes danced around the exterior of the home he’d once built on a street named after him surrounded by a development of other homes he’d also built over the years in this Midwestern town. As the door opened, smiling eyes and wrinkles of wisdom greeted me with a waving invitation to come on in.
No one ever comes here anymore. I don't know why though. There's always such a calm that this place brings. No matter what I'm going through, I can find peace here. For some reason, I just can't stay away from our old barn, Barn Del Fleur.
Sharks: Feel the fear and pay attention
When it comes to adrenaline-seeking behaviour, I have about as much courage as the lion at the start of The Wizard of Oz. I’m okay with that; better to be safe than sorry.
She Loves To Sing!
Some of my earliest memories are of my Dad playing his guitar. Every time we would have company, they would beg him to get out his guitar, and he would gladly oblige them. That is where my love of music and singing came from. I wasn’t even five years old when I started singing along with my dad. He would play the chords and I would chime in on the chorus. Before I hit Preschool, I could pick up a song after hearing it only once. My dad would sing the lead and I, the harmony. My dad’s repertoire included all the old Country Classics from Hank Williams, Willie Nelson, Hank Snow, Roy Acuff and everyone on up the line. I loved them all, including Tammy Wynette, Loretta Lynn, Patsy Cline, Brenda Lee and Dolly Parton. I sang everywhere I went. By the time I was in fourth grade, I could hit notes only a dog could hear and had a vibrato to rival any professional. I loved Music class! The Spring and Christmas concerts were the highlight of my year. My Mom said she could always pick out my voice from all the rest.
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