literature
Families and literature go hand in hand; fictional families to entertain, reflect and inspire.
I'm Right Where You Left Me
I’m seven years old, and I’m riding a merry-go-round. Lights and colors are flashing in my eyes, Scott Joplin’s The Entertainer is playing in my ears, and I look over at my mom on the cartoon horse next to me, and she’s laughing. This is the last good memory I have of my mom. Because after she took me to the South Coast Plaza that day, her illness got worse. My memories after that are of people in gowns, machine beeps, and the distinct smell of the hospital. I knew the smell well because my mom had been a nurse, and whenever she came home from work, the smell clung to her like I used to.
By Traci Gray6 years ago in Families
A Good Mother
It is in the third grade that I begin to consider the possibility that Georgie will be a better writer than I am. I’m picking him up from school when he turns to me and says, “The homeless men will ride lobsters.” I nod like I do when I’m not a good enough mother to care about the oddities that fall from my child’s mouth with increasing frequency. I nod like I do when I think something sounds stupid. But he goes on. “And the police will ride in shopping carts. Who do you think will win?”
By Noah Bogdonoff6 years ago in Families
Finding Warmth
It was a bitter cold that speared through each carefully donned article of clothing, sinking through layers of skin, fat, muscle, until it penetrated deeply to the bone, leaving behind a chill that would never be forgotten. Randall Poehler held himself carefully as he took up his usual position near the subway. His clothing, all threadbare and warn, was doing little to dampen the bone-cold chill that had set in weeks before. The streets of New York were certainly not a forgiving place; a place one down on hard times, such as Randall, might find themselves calling home. ‘Home’ had long since lost its true meaning when he had received his terminal diagnosis and his wife had left him; when his medical bills had eaten him out of house and home, when his daughter had stopped taking his calls and refused him access to his grandson. Randall Poehler was well acquainted with cold and unforgiving.
By Caitlyn Curry6 years ago in Families
Fireflies
They say that you really never see a thing until it’s time. That’s probably why it had lain there so long. In all the days she’d clambered around his desk, creating imaginary worlds in the cubby behind the study door and generally disturbing his quiet working space, she’d never noticed it. But today, as she cleared his things away for the final time, it caught her eye, wedged between the radiator and the windowsill - small enough for a pocket, big enough to contain a universe.
By Deirdre Morrison6 years ago in Families
Amelia and the Hidden Heart
Amelia was excited. Her father was off on one of his hunting trips again, and with Spring on it’s way they would be making their way to the settlement to trade furs for supplies. All year she spent in their lone home on the tundra. Lately, at every full moon, she climbed the ridge to open the secret door in the moon to join the friends that she had made there. Still, other than that time once a month she saw no one. In the bright of the new morning Amelia excitedly began to pack.
By Jessica Olofsson6 years ago in Families
Protecting Value
Protecting Value Written by: Jasmine Jones “Stop!”, I screamed frantically, as Jade chased after the hot yellow mustang. Her dad was gone and there was nothing she could do about it. I saw her face drop as she slowly paced back to the house. A coward, I thought. Only a coward would have his kid chasing after a car.
By Jasmine Jones6 years ago in Families
