family

Family unites us; but it's also a challenge. All about fighting to stay together, and loving every moment of it.

A Morning in Manhattan
“All Done!” Alice smiled as she reread the 70 names, written in the small black notebook, one last time. Then, satisfied, she set it down gingerly on the edge of the coffee table. Jack, her old, fat, and half-deaf beagle was sprawled out lazily on the living room rug. Alice bent down to scratch behind the ear he could no longer reach with his bad leg. Jack leaned into her, grateful for the help.
By Sara Dillon5 years ago in Humans
Terese's Mother
Terese’s one-bedroom apartment in the City - the only one she had lived in since arriving there fresh out of college 5 years earlier, the one she loved as home - always left her mother gasping for breath. It was not the modest living room, the tiny and windowless galley kitchen, or the bedroom with the one big, casement window that looked out onto a moderately busy, but homey, neighborhood street – and, thankfully, a mature London planetree below - that left her mother stricken during her twice-yearly visits. In fact, the air flowed miraculously freshly into and through the little apartment. Rather, her mother needed color. She breathed it in through her eyes like oxygen. And Terese had audaciously painted all of the walls of her apartment a uniform, crisp white. She had also chosen only modern, clean furniture in shades of grey and white. Even the throw pillows were grey. The art, to add insult to her mother’s injury, consisted entirely of framed black and white photographs.
By WS Ball5 years ago in Humans
Waves of Emotion
In the old sea village of Montauk there is humble pier that resides on the beach that allows a resident to gaze into the never-ending ocean. An old town lore says that if you look out long enough on that pier, in the early hours of the morning you can see the moon, sun and stars all at the same time.
By nycsir5 years ago in Humans
Two Books. One Story.
The morning began a little differently than other mornings. Lillian, who was usually an early riser, was moving slowly fighting a seemingly unending battle with the alarm clock. She had spent the majority of the night before pouring over countless letters bearing red words stamped on the front. At the bottom of this mountain of misery, Lillian had discovered an eviction notice. Being fairly new to the area and struggling from month to month to make ends meet, she felt hopeless and was looking at the gut-wrenching option of being forced to return to her hometown. Her hometown was narrow-minded and where she had ended a horrible relationship and lost her mother unexpectedly, which was really what prompted her to make her move to the big city. She hit snooze one last time and threw back the covers. Left leg off the bed. Right leg off the bed. She shuffled to the bathroom and slowly looked in the mirror. Her eyes; red and swollen. Her mouth; dry and chapped. Her hair; tangled and messy. She took a deep breath, started the shower, and hoped for a miracle.
By Tiffany Anderson5 years ago in Humans
Bidder Number 12
Going ONCE, going TWICE… and SOLD to Bidder Number 12! Joe adjusted his bow tie and flattened the creases of his blazer, as he heard the applause ring through the auditorium, following the thud of the auctioneer’s gavel. He stood primed in position, backstage, ready to transport item 57 to Bidder Number 12.
By Nisha Kaur5 years ago in Humans
Ten Thousand, Nine Hundred & Fifty Apologies.
She sat by the window, staring at the white, crispy snowflakes as they landed on the Alpine hedges that lined the perimeter of the lawn. For every flake that fell, her thoughts ran wild. They ran back to the consciousnesses of the raw feelings she endured. Our lady of Mercy mental and behavioral center is where she finds comfort every few months for the accumulated apprehended trauma she can barely get a grip on.
By Jea Santos-Strong5 years ago in Humans
When You Gave Me Flowers
“Listen,” She kisses my face and whispers through my hair, her skin is soft, lips warm. “I have something for you.” Ribbons tied in her raven curls, white gown, she smiles.
By Hannah King5 years ago in Humans
Lonely in Chicago
Amanda She never considered the practicality of what she was doing and in fact, practicality was never really the point. Her coworkers thought she was being characteristically kind by using some of her breaks at the diner to rummage through an old, black, leather notebook some customer left behind in what appeared to be a highly unlikely attempt to track down the owner. Normally, forgotten objects like this book would be tossed into the lost and found box under the register and later tossed out altogether if never claimed. But Amanda was intrigued by this notebook the moment she picked it up. It was an old but clearly expensive and well-made leather-bound notebook that someone used as an address book. She only realized it was an address book because she flipped to the back half. The first half was filled with faded characters she did not recognize. Likely Arabic a co-worker suggested. Amanda was intrigued. Who still used address books? Did the book have different owners, or just one who learned or otherwise began using English at some point? What Arabic speaking country was the owner or owners from? Was it a tourist or one of Chicago’s many immigrants? Whatever the case, Amanda intuitively knew that if someone was walking around with this book during the lunch hour, it was for a reason. The book was clearly of value and irreplaceable. She committed to herself to find the owner. First, she had to identify the origin country. This was difficult as people generally do not include the country when writing an address. Its understood. But they often include cities. She eventually worked out that the owner was Moroccan, with lots of friends or family Fes and Chefchaouen.
By Georgette offit5 years ago in Humans
King Condor
It started with the Goose. Everyone knew the Goose, even if you only knew of her in passing. My siblings and I didn't personally know her that well. Though I visited more than a little and less than a lot, I was younger and she was an older woman with a lot of fowl. But the stories provided my prologue. Aunt Goose - my great aunt, the partially self-proclaimed, partially recognized family matriarch - lived by her own rules. The family called her Goose because they joked that she quacked too much and was foul-mouthed. She spoke loudly, laughed loudly, argued loudly, loved loudly, handled business LOUDLY. That point was evident- and the fact her story was reminiscent of the nursery rhyme Mother Goose. Many believed that she had so many children that she didn't know what to do. She birthed twenty children, with thirteen living until adulthood. Maybe she didn't know at first. The loss of a child is hard to bear for any mother and sometimes she seemed to go elsewhere. Maybe nowhere. But maybe it inspired her to be the best mom she could be for the rest of her children and for me. And that she did.
By Charles Fitzpatrick5 years ago in Humans
Little Black Book of Happy Quotes
It was the first time she left the house since standing over her Grandmother’s casket. The sleepless nights and dreary days added up, but the amount of time seemed to allude Melanie. As she stepped into the sun, she realized she hadn’t left the house since the funeral. She took a long but jagged breath, trying to let the crisp morning air fill her lungs. She woke up thinking “I’ll just go get a cup of coffee.” But she knew leaving the house would amount to more than just a boost of caffeine; Grammie wouldn’t have wanted to see her like this.
By Britney Gladhill5 years ago in Humans
A Loan
I was always partial to being left alone with my own thoughts. It seemed like simple math, less people meant less worries and less distractions. But on the long train ride to a relatively posh part of Wales, it felt different. It felt uncomfortable, and not just because I had elected to wear my hoodie to save on luggage space. I might as well have been on the express train to a cinema so I could experience the world’s first 4D showing of ‘The Anxiety-ville Horror’. On the pain train, the only people I had for company were the random dudes further down the carriage, a packed lunch, a Nintendo DS, a mysterious black notebook (I think my aunt said it was ‘mole skin’?) and my previously discarded coat. And the heat.
By Dave Hodge5 years ago in Humans
Pay it forward
“…You’re fired.” Was all that I could focus on. I knew the company was downsizing, and they were getting rid of what they considered to be dead weight and a twenty-four-year-old Black woman who was 4 months pregnant would no doubt be considered dead weight if they would have to cover the costs of my maternity leave in a few months.
By Danielle T.5 years ago in Humans