humanity
Humanity begins at home.
The Gift
The phone started ringing, Petra popped upright in bed. The phone, which had been resting on her chest- exactly where it had fallen to at some early morning hour, flew unceremoniously across the room landing on a pile of laundry as yet undone. Petra, flailed, trying to get to the phone before it stopped ringing. Still half below the silky surface of deep sleep interrupted, she attempted a roll-to-stand, ending in a roll-to-fall including one foot inexplicably tangled in the bedsheets. "Crap!", bellowed Petra as she low-crawled to the pile and her phone, reaching the phone just as it stopped ringing. The missed call announcing itself as MOM on the screen.
By Diana Bruce6 years ago in Families
Pigwell
In Pigwell, time isn’t measured by days or weeks but by the number of eighteen-wheelers that drive past our house. That’s how I know when the weekends come and go. There isn’t as much trucking between Dilley and Carrizo Springs on the weekend, but at night, you can hear them run up and down I-35 to Laredo and back. My Ma and me still have to get up before dawn every day and tend to the hogs and goats and chickens we keep, weekends or not.
By Darryl Brooks6 years ago in Families
Black Joy. Top Story - February 2021.
We can collectively agree that 2020 was a challenging year. People were losing jobs, losing family members to COVID, and children not able to play outside. Racism was a topic over the summer; Breonna Taylor and George Floyd's deaths sparked protests and boycotts. Last year reminded me why I write—it's because I want to remind people that my history doesn't start with slavery and that African Americans aren't monolithic. To continually tell my story about my black experience. I am happy to see that Vocal is allowing us to tell our stories about the black experience. The media continually bombarded us with information about the pandemic and created a ton of anxiety. After turning off my phone, I quickly realized what mattered to me the most. Being with family. After reading the prompt, two remarkable people popped up in my head. They are my nieces Islah, age three, and her sister Nylah 3 mos. These two beauties have two fantastic aunts that love both of them very much. I'm labeled the funtie.
By teisha leshea6 years ago in Families
Maria and Bitcoins
Maria and Bitcoins Written by Aydin Aguilera Sometimes I think Maria is very lucky, but most of the time I feel real bad for her. And even though everything is different now, I still feel bad for her. If only Maria knew how guilty I feel, living my everyday life the way I do. I can go to the store, get groceries, go for a drive, watch the sunset, and even watch the sun rise if I ever got my lazy ass out of bed. Maria can’t do these things. She can’t put on a mask like the rest of us and go out into the world. And even when she did get to go out into the world, she gets stared at all the time. People look at my sister and they probably think I’m her paid caregiver or something. And they look at her and they get all grateful they don’t look like her, and that they’re not in a wheelchair. They get grateful that they’re not obese and they don’t have crooked eyes and very little hair. They look at what she’s wearing, and they look at what they are wearing, and they feel grateful they don’t have to wear big dresses like Maria has to because of her weight.
By Aydin Aguilera6 years ago in Families
Sketches
Annie searched the lists for several days until she found the entry. When she had begun, she certainly hadn’t expected a reward. Still, she had wondered to find something so precious in a thrift store, and she had decided that someone might want it. So, Annie Jacobson skimmed through website classifieds, convinced she would find a desperate soul searching for the book.
By Carmi Cason6 years ago in Families
Godspeed
“You have to —” Jack stopped mid-sentence to lick his cracked lips. He tasted a bit of dry blood and cursed, “You have to honor a woman’s dying wish.” He finally slurred out and stumbled over a pile of rocks. “I didn’t want the boy. I mean, he ain’t a bad kid. He’s just bad for me.” He sat on the ground, stirring a pile of dust.
By [email protected]6 years ago in Families
Birth of an NYC Street Musician. Top Story - January 2021.
So my mom had married a loser, or had gotten matched to one, then married him. It's a long story, but in the church I grew up in, people are matched; meaning voluntary arranged marriages. Sometimes it works out, but in my mother's case, among others, it did not.
By Marlena Nkene6 years ago in Families
My Hero
I am going to share with you the story of a hero. The cape he wore wasn’t like what you’d see in the movies like Superman. It was hidden under his dirty jeans, calloused hands, and worn out button-down shirt. His eyes always screamed fatigue, yet when the end of the day had drawn to a close, he would always come back and tuck me in. The gentle smile that spread across his face reminded me that my hero had returned. I’d forget about the beatings.
By Jennifer S. Benson 6 years ago in Families
Klassic Kitchenware
Two things we care About, Quality and Customer That’s why we do no not give dealership to others, we setup up our Own selling and distribution warehouse in that particular country and manage the operations in our supervision. At our manufacture unit, we carefully look after our products quality & manufacture them according to health standard. We are the only kitchenware who gives life time guarantee of their products.
By klassic kitchenware6 years ago in Families
