immediate family
Blood makes you related, loyalty makes you family.
Mum
Occasionally my Mum would speak about happenings that she was not privy to. During an evening meal the subject of shoplifting was discussed. “I’ve never done that," I lied. She said, “Except for the necklaces you stole from Target when you were in Grade 8.”
By Pauline Fountain5 years ago in Families
Snip
It starts with a six-inch square of muslin. In 2004 I lived in Minnesota within ten miles of both my sister and brother for the first time since childhood. We didn’t see each other daily, or even weekly, but we enjoyed the closeness so much, our parents were even thinking of joining us. It’s a good thing they hesitated: By the end of 2005, we had scattered to the winds—Sarah to New York for law school, Michael and his family to Tanzania so he could study chimpanzees, and my own family to Florida, where my then-husband had been recruited for a job that promised happiness and a solid future.
By Jennifer Wilson5 years ago in Families
Creativeness In My Blood
It started with my Grandmother, Dorothy Pfalzgraf, an Irish woman who was very involved with her culture. She was a woman of strength, will power, and courage. She held my family together like the quilts she sewed, the precise stitching and patchwork.
By Isabella Vedro5 years ago in Families
Hands In Her Hair
Twice a week, we bring out the arsenal. I put one of my large throw pillows on the ground and I gingerly help my mother lower herself to sit between my knees as I perch on the edge of the couch. Getting up and down off the floor is not as easy as it once was for her. The coffee table is laden with bottles of coconut oil, grape seed oil, detangling cream, a Denman brush, a rat tail comb, leave-in conditioner, a spray bottle full of warm water, and two glasses of Coke. It is a routine I was once daunted by, yet now I eagerly await.
By Tanner Reanne Blackton5 years ago in Families
Ferrari
Ferrari Today, Monty was returning home after four years. His mother did not sleep properly last night with excitement. She was so happy, and it rarely happens Right from the morning. Preparations were in full swing. Sometimes turn the sofa here and move the coffee table a little behind the center. She cooked Monty's favorite food, bought his
By kuljit mann5 years ago in Families
My Mother's Hands
When I think of her, I think of her hands. From my deepest memories, my mother has always had long, red nails. None of this glue-on fakery, but rather her own, thick talons that she and she alone files and sculpts to perfection even now well into her eighties.
By Terry B Marks5 years ago in Families
Love In Stitches
I was only 19 years old when I married my first husband, an airman in the United States Air Force, in the hopes that we would, as the recruiting commercials promised, "see the world". Just one year after our wedding, we were sent to Clark Air Base in the Philippines for a three year assignment. But was not a pleasant tour. My husband was attached to a high deployment squadron, which meant that he was deployed elsewhere frequently, and I was left alone for months at a time in a place that I, a naive kid who had never been alone, found strange and dangerous and very lonely. So I was elated when I became pregnant, and I looked forward to the birth of my baby with excitement. But in my 26th week, I began hemorrhaging, and my baby did not survive; I was devastated.
By Charlee Talor5 years ago in Families
Full Circle
It is the 60's and Jane is getting ready to start her day. She has 4 children and a household to maintain. Jane is a "Beautician". She has a shop in her home. Her children have been told to behave while there are clients in the home, but that is more of a hope than anything else for Jane. With 4 children and a busy salon clientele, she basically lives in a creative chaotic situation. Jane has been on her own for sometime. She has been a hairdresser for as long as her children can remember. The home she shares with her children and her clientele as well is a small cape cod on Chataugua Ave in a small town called Port Norfolk located in southern Va. Jane moved here because it was around the corner from her parents who would help with her children when necessary. Jane supported herself and her children with the shampoos and sets, perms, haircuts and bouffants of the era.
By Janette B Paulk5 years ago in Families
Scraps to Bunting
The fabric scraps had lived under my bed for years—I couldn’t tell you where most of them had come from, though the patterns were as familiar to me as a favorite outfit. Some were remnants of costume making, but most were too tiny for human-sized projects. So they served smaller purposes: a simple skirt or a quilted pillow for my dolls, a bedspread or a curtain for my dollhouse, a pouch for pretend play. I had visions of using one particular scrap to make a dress for my favorite teddy bear, but my sewing skills were never quite advanced enough to attempt it. Any time I needed a piece of fabric, I would bring them all out and lay them on my bed, running my hands over the well-known colors.
By Cassidhe Hart5 years ago in Families
Home, and the scissors that roam...
I used to get frustrated, when my scissors would go missing. As I would reach for my good kitchen scissors to cut a clipping off of my plant, or to trim the edge off of a fresh apple pie lattice top, or to cut a piece of scrapbook material to craft a beautiful card, I would find them missing. Where are my kitchen scissors!
By Nazlyn Rae Hayes5 years ago in Families
