immediate family
Blood makes you related, loyalty makes you family.
First Born
My sister is three years older than me. She was the long anticipated, and much adored first child. My parents desperately wanted children, if only because it was what you were "supposed" to do. My mother’s basement is still full of photo collages and framed images marking every milestone. Though they had a modest income, the Sears Picture Studio was always an option to document Anne’s growth. They still talk about the activities they did, the walks to the park and library, the way Anne learned to read long before Kindergarten, and sending her to school early because she was ready a year early. They talk of all of her achievements and accomplishments, of the better days that were before siblings were born.
By Amelia Porter6 years ago in Families
Family
You ever feel like no matter what you do it isn't enough? Ever feel like the world is just pushing down on your shoulders and the world is just crumbling at your feet? Anyone? No, just me. A family situation has put me in a tough spot. Dealing with it after giving birth three months ago has made me feel lower than I should. I feel like if I don't share information it isn't enough or when I do share information it still isn't enough.
By MICHELLE SMITH6 years ago in Families
Helping Hand
; Darrell was a happy child. He was always the first out of three children to come to your aide if there was ever anything you needed; and his family was most important to him. Darrell had ADHD so school was a struggle, but he was a smart kid. At 14 though, he and his siblings did not get a long very well. So he spent a lot of time with his little cousin, two years his junior.
By Shanz R. Smith6 years ago in Families
The Little Black Notebook
The soothing sounds of my mother playing the piano. Her hands moving on the black and white keyboard as fluently as water. Her head tilting from left to right along with her body as she swayed with her arms, which to me, looked almost like waves. My father didn’t play the saxophone but I often dreamt of him with one in his tiresome, scratched up arms. When he came back from work they reminded me of the really wrecked parts of walls from our local abandoned building in which homeless folks drank and slept, and had sex. They were nothing like my mothers hands. When he gave me a pat on my back I could almost feel the scratchiness of them through my clothes. In my dreams they were soft, big but gentle. Oh how wonderful they would sound as I slept. Her sonatas so beautifully played and him, holding his instrument in his arms, graceful, not full of dust and paint on his clothes.
By Noah Balulis6 years ago in Families
Strong Thoughts
““I’m a money magnet” that’s what I wrote in my little black book… my Book of Thoughts is what I decided to call it.” Liza glanced up at Ms. Robertson, her 4th grade teacher. “I heard my daddy’s UTube saying this last night... he likes to listen to meditation and laws of attraction… manifestation stuff. I don’t know a lot about it but he always tells me to be positive and think about what I want.... so I wrote it too. Is that right.. is this ok to write in this little black book?”
By Nicole Kondratyk6 years ago in Families
Italian-a Super-a Bowl-a *hand gesture*
Food is not my strong suit. Sports are not my strong suit. So you'd think the Super Bowl and the celebration around it wouldn't be my strong suit as well. And for the most part you're right. If I'm invited to a big game party, I'm usually awkwardly trying to identify the aspects of football that seem familiar, looking for the plainest chicken wings or the cheese-est pizza, and I have a generally okay time (not at your parties though, Wolfie, you are the best). However, in my times at my parents' place, I am thriving.
By Sam Pinnelas6 years ago in Families
The Little Black Book Of Blessings
He squinted his eyes in an attempt to figure out what the black object in front of him was. When the frantic looking man went tearing down the sidewalk, crashed into Mark, and kept running, something fell out of his pocket. If Mark’s glasses hadn’t been knocked clear off his face he’d already have been able to identify the object in front of him. As it is, he was fumbling around feeling for them and hoping they weren’t broken.
By Julie Wein6 years ago in Families
