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I Love You More
Dear Mommy, From the day you brought me into this world, you have surrounded me with love. You’ve always said that we “don’t pick our families!” (mostly after I’ve gotten into an argument with my brothers) but I’m sure happy that I was picked to be yours! You’ve raised four outstanding boys on your own and still managed to challenge yourself to accomplish anything you’ve put your mind to. You’ve inspired not only myself, but everyone that comes in contact with you to be kind, work hard, & share love.
By Willie Dee2 years ago in Families
A Life of Solitude
Dear Kendrick, You took the word gratitude and changed any understanding I used to have of the word. ‘Thank you’ were just words you say to people. Appreciation was just the amount of attention you give. I never realized they were accompanied by emotions as well. All at once you taught me the meaning of these words. The growing emotion behind them made me aware, and grew larger than any words could describe. All meaning lost once more as the words were too small to contain the feeling. And yet, they are the only ones I know to express. Thank you. Maybe I can find new words that better represent the size of its meaning. I love you!
By Dawn Constant 2 years ago in Families
FAMILY DESIGN ACROSS SOCIETIES
Family is a basic social unit that shapes people and networks, offering profound help, socialization, and coherence. Across the globe, family structures fluctuate fundamentally, reflecting social, monetary, and verifiable settings. Understanding these designs gives knowledge into how social orders capability and adjust to change.
By Badhan Sen2 years ago in Families
AR Rahman Faces Backlash for Controversial Divorce Hashtag
AR Rahman Faces Backlash Over " #ArrSairaaBreakup" Hashtag in Divorce Post Legendary music composer AR Rahman recently courted online controversy with a post in which he used the hashtag #ArrSairaaBreakup discussing divorce and privacy. He compared the new x-privacy law which was initiated to ensure that people, especially celebrities, were given the right to privacy in sensitive matters. What could have been a healthy reminder of discretion was soon hijacked by negative reactions, accusations of insensitivity, and other personal attacks as people lost sight of what he was saying.
By Abhay kumar chauhan2 years ago in Families
The Warmth of a Snow Angel
The long dark nights of the winter in the northern hemisphere offer the occasion to recall and dwell in memories that appear in the waking dreams of nostalgia. Trauma can do strange things to memories. Memories are often blocked. Thankfully, age seems to be able to heal some of the scars, so trapped memories can be released and emit the light and warmth of the hearth located in the heart.
By Katherine D. Graham2 years ago in Families
Bunny Hop Hop
The sign reads: Handmade, A locally made product. The price reflects these two factors. A beautifully painted ornament hangs on a branch just beyond the sign. The ornament depicts a holiday scene outside of a house that happens to look like her childhood home. The family is playing in the blankets of snow. A sunset is just starting, shown by the presence of sky blue still being present with slight tints of pink, purple, and orange behind the silhouettes.Wendy could almost picture it already on her parents tree amongst the other ornaments. Each ornament adorning her parents tree was a gift, or purchased from a trip, or representing some special moment. The Christmas tree was more than just a decoration. It was a patchwork of their lives together. The tree was a photo album, of sorts, of years passed. The problem was purchasing the ornament without being seen and without being suspected of shoplifting. Of course the ornament was a one of a kind, which added a bit of anxiety around putting it back. It's not that the others were bad, but they felt lacking next to this one. She heard footsteps approaching behind her. Wendy shoved the ornament under the tree, hoping it was hidden and out of sight. "Oh wow, those are beautiful. People are so talented. I could never have the patience to do that." "They are beautiful." " Oh wait look, there is one more. It must have fallen. This one is so beautiful." "You don't say", Wendy said half disappointed. "I have to buy this one. It is perfect." "Mom, let me buy it. I was going to buy one as a gift." "Are you sure?" "Who do you think hid it under the tree?", Wendy retorted half heartedly. Wendy could see her mom calculating what the meaning of what she was saying meant. "Ooops, Oh I'm sorry Wendy. Great minds", she said smiling. "I love it the same on Christmas" "Not the point", she said after her mom as her mom walked away. She picked it up and went to the cash register to purchase. Later that evening she was helping pull out decorations. The musty dusty smell filled her nostrils. There is something strangely nostalgic about that smell mixed with a little perfume of a vanilla floral frankensense variety and cooking food. She felt a rush of positive endorphins. Wendy stumbled upon a box. It said Wendy's past projects. Inside was a squeezed oddly shaped, if she was being honest, an ugly ball of glazed clay. She backed her way out of the closet with the unidentifiable object. "Mom, Mom, Whats this? It was in a box with my name on it." "Oh, that", She seemed pleased to have been reminded of this moment. "That is the first item you created out of Clay. In a mommy and me class." "This.", Wendy stared at the object trying to find any indication at what the item was supposed to be. "How old was I?" "Stop judging, I love this item. You were young. You did it all by yourself.", she said proudly. "Yeah, I can tell that much. It looked like I squeezed it and then mushed it." "Stop, it's a bunny. Bunny hop hop, you called it.", very sweet. "This is a bunny? Wow, okay. It is the Deadpool dog of ornaments huh?" "I love it, you put it back. That is a keeper." Wendy thought about putting it back, but instead she took it. She had one beautiful ornament as a gift. She now had another that was hideous, but beautiful in sentiment. It was perfect. She would add a string and give it to her mother for Christmas. On Christmas morning, after all the gifts were divided up, Wendy waited with anticipation for her mother to get to her gift. Finally her mother picked up the package and opened it. A shreik and then the extreme elation shown in her facial expression. Not only had Wendy managed to add a string, but also a small sign that read, "bunny hop hop, made by hand, Mommy and Me Class '88". "I love it, what a gift. It's beautiful." "I knew you would think so." "It is, truly." When they all thought the last gift had been opened and gifts were coming to an end, Wendy placed another gift under the tree. Hidden slightly as it had been in the shop. Wendy's mom approached, "Did you save that ornament for yourself. It was beautiful. The hand painted one." "No, you are right you didn't open it yet", she said smiling. She watched as her mom looked towards the tree. Catching on fast is a mom's power. Wendy saw her mom go to the spot as if it were the tree from the shop. "Imagine that, one more, and it's for me." She opened it quickly. "Beautiful, but you messed up." "This isn't the ornament?", Wendy asked confused. "It's the ornament, but I already got a more beautiful ornament. This one is nice, but it can't compare. I had saved a spot in front for it. "See", she said while pointing to the tree. Wendy saw an empty brach in front. She watched as her mom hung the beautiful hand painted ornament on the back, facing out the window. Then she took Bunny Hop Hop and placed it on the branch in front. "Perfect, the tree is now perfect.", Her mother said with a precious plauditory expression. The lights looked like stars in her eyes. As if all the Christmas magic was alive in her. "Yes it is. Maybe one year I will make you another hand made one.", Wendy said as she hugged her mom. "One is probably more than enough", her mother said approvingly. Wendy started laughing along side her mom knowing it was less a commentary about her abilities and more about this tiny ugly misshapen ball of clay that had become a favorite to both of them.
By simplicity2 years ago in Families
The Lost Letters: A Nostalgic Reflection. AI-Generated.
Once, communication meant waiting for the postman’s knock or the whisper of a telegram. Songs like "Nai Telephone, Nai Re Piyon" were born from this era, weaving stories of longing and delayed connection. But those days are slipping through the cracks of modernity, fading into memories that today’s generation, raised amidst digital instantaneity, may never truly comprehend.
By Md. Solayman Hossain Sabuj2 years ago in Families
The Heart and Soul of Christmas Traditions: 10 Beautiful Reasons We Celebrate (2024). Content Warning. AI-Generated.
The Heart and Soul of Christmas Traditions: 10 Beautiful Reasons We Celebrate (2024) Discover the magic behind the most cherished time of the year—when love, laughter, and timeless traditions bring families closer than ever.
By mohammed Faisal2 years ago in Families
The Feeling of Love: A Journey Through Every Relationship. Content Warning. AI-Generated.
The Feeling of Love: A Journey Through Every Relationship Begin this journey of deep, emotional bonding and intimate connections within your life. As love cuts across many relationships in our lives, this handbook delves into the science and ways you can cultivate lasting love to help you understand and enjoy close emotional relationships.
By Sitare Alam2 years ago in Families
DISPOSABLE. Content Warning.
I need to buy some new undies. Several pairs reveal a parting of ways between the elastic and the cotton fabric and, as my mother used to say, what if you were taken to hospital and were wearing those? As a child I had no real idea what she meant. Like when I had my appendix out? Is there special hospital underwear? But like a puppy I picked up on the tone of voice. Shame. It would be shameful to have decrepit underpants viewed by… well, by anyone. I remember her repairing her own nylon undergarments, sitting by the window where the light was best, bending over the needle and thread. It was a necessity; she had no income of her own and the only way to purchase personal items was by putting a few pence aside from the weekly housekeeping. That scrimping and saving was preferable to the stressful, yet ultimately inevitable, conversation with my father about increasing the housekeeping money. Though conversation isn’t the right word. Inquisition. Interrogation. Ritual humiliation. Any and all of those.
By Bruce Jenkins2 years ago in Families
