immediate family

Blood makes you related, loyalty makes you family.

Road Dog
Picture it. Me. Third Grade. My teacher Mrs. Walton stands in front of the class gliding her hand across a map of the United States. At that age, you really don’t have the scope of the world abroad because your view is still limited. It’s not until that view is questioned that you start to really think about it. We’re shaped by our experiences and at this point I hadn’t had many. She asked….
By Bryan Chimney4 years ago in Families
To My Father
Sometimes when I look up and see clouds drenched in molten gold, dripping with brilliant sunrays that kiss the horizon, I think of you. I imagine you up there, basking in the pleasant heat and shining down on me.
By Rose May4 years ago in Families
Bon Jovi Is Not My Dad: An Admiration Story About My Rockstar Dad
Dads don't use their words to express their love for their daughters. Instead, they show their love by providing safety, protection and security. Not only that, but also by providing a home for her to sleep in, playing sports outside with her, encouraging the pursuit of higher education, buying her presents, making her laugh, and exceedingly more. This is based on true stories on why I love my dad so much and how truly grateful I am for him; more than words could ever explain.
By Brittany Brin4 years ago in Families
A lifetime of sorrow for our happiness
Kicking and screaming, I fought with all of my strength—all the physical strength of a 4-year-old child—to stop from being put into the car. I was like a wild animal, and to be back inside that car meant that I wouldn’t be able to see my dad again, at least for another week, and that felt like an eternity. I don’t remember the unfortunate person who was tasked with carrying me—perhaps it was my uncle—but the tears blurred my vision and the gut-wrenching, profound despondency that only a child could feel within the storms of a tantrum clouded my memory. All I wanted was to be with my dad; at the time, I could not be. It was a matter of scheduling and lack of supervision, and such issues were trivial to a child. Then, I didn’t know that at this moment I had broken my dad’s heart. Soon after, he would make sacrifices in his daily life and work schedule, just to remove this source of pain from my reality.
By S.R. Var4 years ago in Families
The Words I’ve Never Said
Dear Daddy, My eyelids are closed tight and as I open them, I can see streams of sunshine behind my eye lashes. When my eyes focus, we are standing in our backyard next to the old wooden fence on the left-hand side. You reached down and gently picked me up. I remember feeling safe- not safe like I do now as an adult but rather calm and fully knowing that you were there, and that you would never let anything happen to me. You placed me in the child seat of your bike. As I look up at you towering over me, shielding me from the bright sun, you are smiling down at me.
By Carina Goodman 4 years ago in Families
Harley
Having a dad around was sometimes like having a good day. Growing up, my parents seldom got along with one another which made it difficult to form a real lasting relationship with my dad at times, especially living with my mother almost one hundred percent of the time, but we made do. He would find ways to make it to my games when I played in sports for my church at the time. He made an effort to attend my orchestra concerts all through elementary, junior high, and high school. He even went so far as to be an assistant coach for whatever club football team that I was playing for at the time. No matter how hard it was for us to find a way to spend time together, we found it, whether it was going to Cardinals football games, heading down to Tempe for either an Authority Zero show or Flogging Molly concert, even just getting together to chill and hang out at the mall.
By Gunnar Anderson4 years ago in Families
The Background at the Center of Things
My dad has always been fond of saying that he was “born to be in the background at the center of things”. But he never says it with any bitterness or resentment; where would we be, after all, without the people who were there to witness the important things in our lives?
By J. H. Singer4 years ago in Families
A Poem Explained
A Poem Explained Part 1: The Poem Will you play chess with me? Will you hold my hand? Will you read aloud to me? Will you laugh with me?
By Julianna Huckaby4 years ago in Families
When Love Skips a Generation
When we were kids we used to argue over whose dad could beat up whose. It was more a commentary on our stubbornness than on the actual strength of our fathers. Especially when it came to the apparent superhuman qualities they developed during the argument.
By Mala4 years ago in Families
Legacy
Ireland is known for its stories, its folklore, its writers, and its poets. The festivals of St. Patrick and Samhain; the legend of the Giants of the Causeway; the fairy tales of leprechauns and changelings; the superstitions of fairy circles and black cats and rain at a funeral; for such a small nation, its stories are colossal.
By J. H. Walsh4 years ago in Families
Don't Eat Chocolate Like it Was Bread. Top Story - July 2022.
Foreword My father’s home was in Ingria, a little-known area in what is now within Russia’s borders, just east of the Gulf of Finland and Estonia. It had been fought over by Sweden and Russia for hundreds of years until it was ceded for the last time to Russia in the 1700's.
By Lea Waske 4 years ago in Families
How could you have possibly missed that?
Every year, when the chance came that he could, my Dad would take us both hunting out into the woods. We went to hunt on public land, an area that was diverse, kind and not very harsh. My Dad would take us to the hunting land that next to a river that is known as a marsh.
By Thavien Yliaster4 years ago in Families