siblings

Siblings are the only enemy you can't live without.

Black Ice
“Goodnight, love ya, see ya in the morning,” Julie crooned to each of us. It was her nightly ritual, she couldn’t sleep until she’d sought each of us out and declared her love along with a hug.
By Viltinga Rasytoja5 years ago in Families
Your Opinion Matters
Perhaps you’ve read “Moe’s Story” and met my baby sister Moe. If not, let me introduce you now. I grew up with a tight group of siblings. “Three of each” our parents proudly declared. For just as long as “Lean On Me” has been our ‘family song’ we’ve been there for each other. My siblings were my best friends from the day we were born, especially my sisters.
By Kim Mitchell5 years ago in Families
The Case of the Alphabetarian Practical Jokers
"You gotta be kidding me", my mother said, when the bunch of us, my brothers and sisters and a friend, played the biggest practical joke on a babysitter that was not cooperating with us.
By Zel Harrison5 years ago in Families
Hide and Seek in the Dark
Hide and Seek in the Dark I grew up in an unconventional household, but I have some of the best childhood memories. My mother and father were never married but he was always in my life. My mother’s best friend ran away from home when she was thirteen and my grandmother took her in, so she just became my mother’s sister and my aunt. Well my aunt had two boy’s and my mother had me and neither of them had a husband. The two “sisters” decided to move in together and raise us as siblings. So, my brothers are not connected to me by blood except for the younger one who is technically my cousin but that’s another story for another day. Now you understand the lineage I will tell you my older brother is two years and two days older than me and my younger brother is three years younger than me. This arrangement worked for the “sisters” because my mom graduated from college and had a good job that allowed her to provide for the family and my aunt was able to stay home and take care of us rambunctious kids so they didn’t have to pay for child care. One of my favorite stories is our infamous game of hide and seek in the dark which resulted in a call to 9-1-1 and a visit from the local police and the paramedics.
By Sherry Little-Ragan5 years ago in Families
Boys will be Boys
I had an enchanting childhood... I wish I could say the same of adulthood... Craig and I were on an insatiable quest for adventure. It wasn't merely a desire to "do something" or "eradicate boredom"; we had discovered there was a world, and we were compelled by some abstruse, unidentifiable force to explore it...all of it!
By Dr. David Yates5 years ago in Families
Girls Weekend
As the youngest of four girls within six years, my sisters and I are all very close. This wasn’t always the case, there was plenty of clothes and boyfriend stealing, as you can imagine, but as we’ve gotten older and more mature (ha ha), we’ve become best friends.
By Kelly Mendoza5 years ago in Families
In the Doghouse
I was maybe five, with two older brothers and a couple of sisters as well. Another large family lived nearby. The kid my age in their family was a boy.
By Kim Mitchell5 years ago in Families
Funny Times With My Brother
Caption: An image of me. I would post one of my brother and I but there aren’t any good ones, plus my brother doesn’t go outside 🤣 and also for privacy reasons.
By Rika Lekay5 years ago in Families
The other one
You said I don't understand. You said I will never get it. But I do. Life got hard. Really awful. We both lost our dad on Christmas Day from a heart attack. Mama checked out. I do get it. But, you choose drugs, and the drugs chose you.
By Mandy Price5 years ago in Families
A Job That Never Ends. Top Story - September 2021.
One year. Nine months. That's how long I was an only child. I have no recollection of this time, only after. After I became a sister.
By M.J. Carlock5 years ago in Families
Cooking Fool
A swirling ring of smoke making its way to the ceiling could only mean one thing. My mom was working late, and my older sister Tasha was in the kitchen standing in front of the stove, feverishly stirring, baking, or frying away the smell, taste, and look of what would be our dinner.
By Robbie Vaughn5 years ago in Families
Sunday
Each day of the winter holidays was cold and lifeless – Sunday proved no different. Yasmin Ali, a 13-year-old refugee, rose at seven to tend to the family vegetable garden. She grabbed her rubber boots, chalky with dried mud the previous weekend, from the family shoe cupboard. She swept her hijab over her hair, rough fingers catching on rougher material, and held it in place with a salvaged pin. She wore a two-year-old puffer coat from the local charity shop. It was black, timeless and like her mother had told her, kept her warm in the harsh Scottish wind. She cut a slim, shaky figure with a top-heavy look; it seemed impossible that her legs would hold all that weight.
By H. S. Oss5 years ago in Families