family
Family unites us; but it's also a challenge. All about fighting to stay together, and loving every moment of it.
A Father’s Gift
Even on his deathbed, a trickle of a smile played across his face. A contented man as he neared his last breath. The array of monitors, the specialists who followed each other in and out of the spacious hospital suite, the skyline views. All were testament to his wealth. Yet he had begun life abjectly poor, or so went the story he told.
By Mark Triffitt5 years ago in Humans
Running Errands
She tapped it on the table, turned it then tapped it again. “I’m sorry,” she said out of habit. And out of habit, she walked the little black book end-over-end and tapped the table with it again. The book made tiny controlled cartwheels between her finger and thumb, sticking the landing each time. “I was in outer space.”
By Autumn Helenihi5 years ago in Humans
Her numbers.
Her numbers. 23977. The number that haunted her; her arm scarred for life by five numbers that she dreamed about nightly, invading her every thought like a plague of the mind. At thirty-five years old, Lina did not know what they meant. Her mother Dana Muller had avoided that conversation for over twenty-five years, promising an answer would one day come, but Lina continued to wait. Memories of her first years of life were clouded beyond recognition, with only images of a grassy meadow infiltrating her dreams at night.
By Mykela Bourne 5 years ago in Humans
Fly Me To The Moon
I gazed at the sunset just before the sun dipped into the horizon. The vivid pink and orange of the evening danced across the sky while crickets and frogs chirped in the creekbed nearby. Cows mooed in the distance, the soft summer breeze blew along the porch disturbing the wind chimes and making them tinkle together. I sat on my porch rocking chair drinking in the summer evening, letting the warm breeze caress my face. In the background, a radio crackled with static as it played oldies… music from my parents’ and grandparents’ childhood. The opening lines of “Fly Me to the Moon” by Frank Sinatra. Beth and my mother's favorite song.
By Nathaniel Pratt5 years ago in Humans
Don’t Think, Just Jump
I stand, hands sweating, back pressed against the metal rail, knuckles white with tension and fear as I contemplate what needs to be done. I am out of options. My eyes fill with liquid torment as the river rages below. I suck in a ragged breath and try to shake the anxiety. I have to do this. I just have to. I close my eyes to concentrate.
By Smarty Mom5 years ago in Humans
