children
Children: Our most valuable natural resource.
A Full Childhood
Passaic General Hospital, the place where I was brought into this world; Passaic General Hospital where they should have a plaque with my name hanging in the emergency room for the record for the most visits in any category, Passaic General Hospital where I spent a good deal of the first half of my Junior year in High School, Passaic General Hospital a place that everyone in the area knew.
By roy Slezak5 years ago in Families
Journal of Broken Dreams
I open the drawer, pull out the floral-patterned journal and set it on my desk. I have not added an entry in weeks, and the mental dam is threatening to burst with words of insight begging to be written. Most journals are private affairs of the mind shared between the writer and pages, no one else. We all have locked away secrets, desires, or mental ramblings that need to get out but are not meant for human digestion. This journal is different. I do get the benefit of sharing secrets with an unobjective, non-judgmental, inanimate object, but soon my daughter will read these sacred pages. Nervous waves wash over me as I think about her eyes reading these intimate words, but it is the only means of communication I have with her. Distance prevents her from writing me back, but that doesn’t stop me from imagining the scene. I fall into wistful imagination as I watch her open the journal and begin reading. Her thick, tight curls of spun gold fall into her face as she reads. She stretches a small hand up to tuck the errant curl behind her ear, never taking her eyes from the words of wisdom written just for her. Her smile fills my soul with warmth. There are pensive times, as well as incredulous looks, but after each entry she sets the book down, careful not to bend a single page to glance at me as if to say, ‘Good job Daddy’. Her cherubic, dark chocolate eyes shine at me with a reverence like only a daughter can give to her father. Arms outstretched, smiling with the single dimple she hates, she hugs my neck.
By Aaron Thompson5 years ago in Families
Chocol8 Sk8terz
Monday morning was here yet again and Jazz was in the kitchen making nothing other than six cups of chocolate milk. “Goood morning, Good morning, good morning to you and you and you and you.” Sang Ms.B as she always did to the crazy cool kids sitting at the kitchen bar, drinking their chocolate milks ( Jazzy had just handed to them) with their cute little chocolate moustaches. (Seeing those chocolate moustaches always made her laugh.)
By Monica Bernal 5 years ago in Families
Heartfelt
Heartfelt Jess slowly made her way along the sidewalk to Porter’s bakery. She did not even realize she had opened the door and walked in until she was standing in front of the cakes. As Jess stood there staring at the cakes she was pulled into the past as she relived her last conversation with Brady.
By Jason Barlow5 years ago in Families
Miracle Chocolate
For many years I have had a piece of chocolate cake become a part of my life and when I devour it, love it and truly enjoy it my conflict or problem goes away. When I was six I was skinny my hair frizzy it just framed my slender face like a half oval head piece of wild brush. People laughed at me so much so I would have nightmares that featured their laughter. One nightmare repeated itself over and over again until I was well into my teens. A fat clown would walk up to me stand toe to toe and laugh very hard and loud. Then a Squirrel Monkey would taunt me saying “You are ugly, no one loves you.” Then it would disappear as quickly as it had appeared. When I would wake from the awful dream like clockwork a day or two later somehow a piece of chocolate cake would become a part of my life.
By Hadayai Majeed aka Dora Spencer5 years ago in Families
King Gnome & the Chocolate Cake
Birthdays are a funny thing. As I sip champagne on my 40th sharing around the expensive, organic, vegan, raw, salted-caramel cakes, my mind drifts back to fond memories of my childhood birthdays with my mum. In particular, one occasion with the milkman….
By Amanda Clair5 years ago in Families
Death by chocolate
Birthdays are a funny thing. As I sip champagne on my 40th sharing around the expensive, organic, vegan, raw, salted-caramel cakes, my mind drifts back to fond memories of my childhood birthdays with my mum. In particular, one occasion with the milkman….
By Amanda Clair5 years ago in Families
Merry Christmas, My Children
It’s Christmas morning, but the house is quiet except for the sounds of a hungry cat trying to wake us for breakfast. Sleepily, I walk to the kitchen, two felines on my heels. I try not to trip over them as I pop cans of food open and portion it out. Mercy cries when she smells it, and Pixel runs to check on her, making sure it’s only the lack of food that disturbs her. The three of us walk back to the bedroom as we do every morning. Sassy, Pixel and Mercy are enjoying their morning meal, but the house is quiet.
By Aspiring Author5 years ago in Families
Two Miss Daisy's
There was a bridge I used to cross with my family. My daddy would ask me if I wanted to go swimming in the river and I would take off my shoes or sandals and get ready. Yes! I wanted to go. And that was because at the age of 5 I believed I could become a mermaid. Remember a movie called Splash! , starring Tom Hanks and Daryl Hannah? In the movie she is a mermaid staying in the apartment of the man of her mermaid dreams. And one night she needs to unwind. So she goes to the bathroom while he is sleeping, along with some Morton’s Salt . She runs the water and pours the salt. As she touches her skin, she begins to develop scales. Anyways, she is laying in the tub and her tail uncurls over the edge. I thought she was beautiful and I wanted to be just what she was. A mermaid. I wanted to get away. I loved my family but I just wanted to get away and be happy. Maybe find my Tom Hanks one day. Save boys or people who were randomly falling off of boats.
By Layla Nelson5 years ago in Families
