Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Families.
Big Mama's Plan
Sherie stood there smiling until the agent actually put the keys in her hand. The moment that happened she loudly screamed Halleluiah while continuously jumping up and down, around and around the room for several minutes. Although Henry Akin had experienced many other clients of his expressing jubilation during the process of completing a home sale he was certainly taken aback by Sherie’s act of joyful celebration. After several minutes of watching her try to calm herself he finally asked if she were ok and then stated, I bet your parents are quite proud of you for being able to purchase yourself your own very first home. His words stopped her dead in her tracks. She stood motionless for a moment, gathered herself and quietly replied to the agent. No. She said I truly know that they are not proud of me at all. As her tears started flowing uncontrollably, she stood there momentarily, but in her mind she stood there a lifetime reminiscing about so many of the hurtful events of her life with all of its trauma, tribulations and tears. She knew that this man could never comprehend how much that word home was resonating in her heart, mind, and soul. Home is not a word that she could or would have ever used before as a description of any place that she had ever lived. Sherie had just recently celebrated her 19th birthday alone in the same unremarkable hotel room that she had been renting for the past six months. Although the cost was making a serious dent to her limited bank account, she would continue her personal vow to never return to her mother’s house under any circumstances nor for any reason. Freedom could not be complete until she was able to accomplish her set goal of securing her very own home. For now that hotel room had provided the rest and security that she had so desperately needed for so awfully long as protection from her mother’s threats and control. With her grandmother now gone there seemingly had been no other place she could have run to for even the limited amount of sanctuary Big Mama’s house had sometimes provided. The recent few weeks of time that she had been able to stay there mostly alone had been such a blessing in that it was the catalyst to the incomprehensible changes that were now happening in her life.
By Keith Turner6 years ago in Families
Raising children during a pandemic
I am a mother of four. Three are my biological children. One is a step-child. In today's world, with COVID-19 ravaging even the most remote areas now, decision making about anything has become difficult. Sometimes more difficult for some than others. I believe the most difficult decisions belong to parents.
By Elizabeth Parker6 years ago in Families
The Little Black Book
The blaring of her alarm awakened Eva Banks with a start. Even after 8 hours of sleep, she was still bone weary. It was Saturday, her day to volunteer at the senior center, but all she wanted to do was stay in bed, wrapped in the cocoon of her thin but comfortable blanket. "Oh well," she thought. "A promise is a promise, and after all I've been through, I can't simply break the one I made when I signed up for this." She reluctantly got up, took a shower, got dressed, then steeled herself for the mile long walk to the center. Leaving her shabby apartment, she quickly glanced up and down the street, checking the weather, but also looking for any sign of HIM. Seeing none, she sighed with relief, then started her long walk. As she walked, she thought about her life, and all of the things which had happened to bring he to this place and time. She knew she shouldn't think about those things, because she was desperately trying to begin a new life, one devoid of fear, heartbreak and loss. So intent was she with her musings, she abruptly found herself stumbling over something lying on the sidewalk. Coming back into the moment with a jolt, she looked down at the thing which almost sent her sprawling, and saw that it was a book. A little black book, to be exact. She picked it up and opened it, thinking that it might be a novel she could read on those nights when she couldn't sleep at all. But all she saw on those slightly yellow and worn pages were letters and symbols which to her seemed to be some kind of foreign language or codes. Not being able to figure it out, and already running late for her duties at the center, she put the book into her purse, and promptly forgot about it.
By Diana R Dukes6 years ago in Families
What Is The Underlying Cause of Bullying?
Knowledge Acquisition and the Social Self Social cognition seeks to explain how people perceive themselves and other people. When one understands that cognition is the process of acquiring knowledge, one can then understand the meaning of social cognition. The most straightforward meaning being the process of acquiring knowledge about one’s social environment through the impressions that are formed based on bias and our subjective impressions.
By VNessa Erlene6 years ago in Families
Homecoming
Who would have thought that a dusty old Honda Accord could have moved her to tears... With the rear bumper still pushed in on the corner from when Mum reversed it into the heavy wooden gate that kept her home private, with maroon paint that was cracked and faded. The same car that had driven her to the airport years ago. She made so many promises, and wished she'd kept more of them. An awful, heavy sadness had draped over her as she looked at it, leaving her adrift between numbness and tears.
By Samuel Hill6 years ago in Families
Little Black Book of Generosity
Two cups of rice...Heather wrote down in her small black notebook, sighing and breathing heavily. Heather had a habit of writing down what she owed to Mrs Thompson, the nice, elderly lady living next door. Mrs. Thompson never bothered asking Heather for payment, but Heather promised to return the kindness.
By Lucius White6 years ago in Families
"The Stronghearts"
It was the summer of ’79 when I first laid eyes on them. A 1956 teal blue Ford sedan rumbled by our Santa Fe style compound, our home, where I and my siblings grew up. The neighborhood and particularly the street we lived on; "Camino Sierra Vista" was considered “The Barrio” in Santa Fe, New Mexico. A Spanish term for “The Ghetto.” However, we were so fond of our hood and had no idea that we were poor, nor lived in a part of town that was considered less than.
By Echo Johnson6 years ago in Families
Why I Stopped Sharing My Goals With My Parents
"Kevin, talk to me," my mom was talking to me, "What do you want to do?" I averted my gaze and mumbled, "Nothing," as I walked upstairs into my room. My mom was probing me about my plans, goals, and my future. I didn't want to say anything, though. I already knew what my parents are going to tell me.
By Kevin Shan6 years ago in Families
Burnt
Suchitra wore red to the cremation. She buttoned up a crimson blouse and outlined her lips in carmine, defiant with joy at her uncle’s passing. She went dressed like the fire that would finally claim what was left of him, reveling in his death. To no one’s surprise the funeral was small. Baal was not popular by any means. He had no hobbies beyond TV-watching, and barely drank any alcohol, so the friendships made at the local watering hole did not include him. A couple coworkers from the factory came. A handful of family was there too, dressed in traditional white kurtas and head scarfs, huddling a fair distance from the burning pyre, as thick black smoke pushed upward through the midday heat. The wood crackled loudly, pelting glowing pieces as it broke. People stared at the woman in red, no doubt whispering about her disrespectful funeral attire. But after all her years of silence over what her uncle had done, this was her only semblance of retribution, and she found satisfaction in their gossip.
By Stephanie Ramlogan6 years ago in Families
