Family relationships, in all their complicated glory. Families explores the intricacies of being parents, siblings, mentors, and friends.
“What language do you speak at home?” “Just English,” I reply apologetically, emphasizing the "just," hoping the topic will change.
Through The Eyes Of My Child
When I began working from home and building my business, I worried just like any parent about its effect on my children. A known helicopter mom and minor hypochondriac, I didn't let them far from arms reach. Without my focus completely on them, I was curious as to how we would manage. Without a bubble-wrapped room and a maid at our beck and call, I assumed it would be disastrous.
The recurring death
The death of any loved one is difficult and healing can be hindered by simply taking care of business. I vaguely experienced this with my mother and my grandmother but it's almost unbearable now that my husband has died. We spent 45 years together which is 5 years shy of being half a century. He has only been gone about 3 weeks but it feels like an eternity. Each time I believe I am having a good day something happens that causes me to feel as if he has just died all over again. It feels like smooth sailing and then waves crashing down over and over again taking my breath away before they subside.
- Second Place in Sister Circle Challenge
In the Times Of Xenophobia
Dear Mama Anita, Mama, when we came here first, the language was the hardest part wasn't it? You practiced for hours, head bent over my borrowed laptop watching videos and old CDs. I remember the trips to the libraries, where you painstakingly selected the best books, and audiotapes and copied word for word pages upon pages of the mysterious English language.
Dancing On Corpses with Imaginary Friends
The stench of a funeral home has unforgettably stuck with me. Each one smells identically of rotting flesh, formaldehyde, and dying floral arrangements. The first time that smell gripped my nostrils was six days before my fifth birthday. My father made his way back to our home after leaving me with my Granny. His veins were racing with a Molotov cocktail of cocaine, Jim Beam, and rage. A mere hour behind him, my mother arrived home after a Sunday morning shift at the grocery store deli she worked part-time at to support my father's drinking and driving habits. She inserted her key into the front door, turned the worn brass handle, and stepped in through the storm door as she did every other afternoon. This step wasn’t like the others. My mother looked up to a black revolver staring at her forehead, my father’s dead eyes staring from behind it. His demons overtook him that day, convincing him to grab a handgun, usually stowed away in a small red toolbox in the back of his garage, and destroy everything in its path. It was in my mother's blood to fight, and as I was wholly unaware, slumped on my Granny's couch unable to help her, she did exactly that. She fought for her life. My father was still present somewhere deep inside the demon’s grasp, and in a final gracious gesture, sacrificed himself. After a struggle, the gun must've pulled back and turned on the evil that overtook him. I imagine that there was a glimmer of the man we had once known but hadn't seen in so long, looking back into my mother's eyes as a final selfless apology. His last bit of light pulled the trigger, and the gun fired. All of our worlds, and everything we had all known, simultaneously fell crashing onto the floor.
To My Girls
To my girls, The assignment is to write an open letter to the strongest woman I know. But how can I choose just one when each of you is so incredible?
A Grand Dad
Before I knew what trans was, let alone that I was trans, you could easily say that I was a Daddy’s Girl. Except for one small fact- I didn’t consider myself someone who HAD a dad until after I lost him.
It wasn’t until I started traveling a lot that I began experiencing flight anxiety. Tucked into a snug window seat, I found myself at ease; excited to see my family who I knew would be waiting for me when I landed.
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.
The Special Date
They had met before, although back then I would not have called it a date. In fact, they had met many times before today. Today was special though, they were in a new town, and it had been years since they had seen one another. Based on the clock they still had a few hours to wait. If it was going to be special Mike had plenty of work ahead of him.
What Makes Kids Successful in the Future Life?
I was born in the '90s. I spent my entire childhood playing outside with kids from the nearest neighborhoods. We knew each other well since most of us ended up studying at the same school.
Mother's Day Gift Baskets - Make Your Own
That special day for mom is coming and if you really want to surprise her this year, you can make Mother’s Day gift baskets that will show her how special she is to you. A gift that comes from the heart will always mean more than jewelry or flowers. Put together a gift basket full of goodies that will make her glow with pride.
A Match Made in Traffic
[This was a story I wrote in my early times of writing stint(!) and my writing has improved much better. Or so I hope. Do read and enjoy the little twist? at the end]
The Treasure Box
A number of years ago when my granddaughters were all younger from 4 to 12 we would go on a week long camping trip along with other friends who had small children there was a mixture of boys and girls, the mothers and aunts would get together and decide what would make the camping trip a memorable one. This year I decided to do something on my own for the kids, I created a authentic looking map stained with tea on parchment paper used black ink with a odd looking compass but you could well see that it was a compass, then I had a wooden box made with a pirate and crossbones burned into it, rummaged through my cosmetic jewelry and stuffed it into the box this was looking pretty cool for kids to dig up!
Grief is for the grieving
I was raised in a community where when someone passed away, the focus was on doing whatever you could to encourage the grieving family who is left behind. It seems that things have changed over the decades or perhaps I am only now becoming acquainted with those of different personalities. Since the death of my husband I have been overwhelmed by individuals who seem to borderline on being narcissistic and attempt to use me as a platform for their own personal sounding board. Some seem to think I am their pet project.
NO SMOKE AND NO WINE
-All encounters in the world are reunion after a long separation.- Part One：The Story of Lotus Angel "No Wine" I'm a little boy. I have a little elder sister, who is also my closest friend. We used to live in the Lotus Heaven, where there was a boundless lotus sea. Whenever the breeze was blowing, the lotus petals were dancing gently, flashing moving lights. There were many, many little boys and girls like us. Only the purest and kindest children can live in our lotus heaven. We were called "Lotus Angels". During the day, we grew lotus in the lotus sea, picked lotus seeds, or learnt the wisdom of the Divine. When night fell, we slept in our own lotus flower.
I worked for him for a decade... freelance. We became friends, and he a mentor. But the start was rocky. I was hired the first time because I knew absolutely nothing about him.
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