fact or fiction
Is it fact or merely fiction? Fact or Fiction explores the myths and beliefs we hold about our family dynamics, traditions, and if there's such thing as a 'perfect family.'
An Ordinary Life
An Ordinary Life and an Unexpected Brown Box To say that my Grandmother was a hoarder is an understatement. She had 5 of everything you would ever want in life, and antiques were her favorite. When the family gathered to empty out her houses (yes, she had two houses, one in the middle of 50 acres of forest off the Appalachian Trail, and her house in historic Bethlehem, Pennsylvania), we each were allowed to take whatever caught our fancy.
By eilene susan wenner5 years ago in Families
The Day I Found Out
“Hey, mom? Did you order something online?” I asked, a confused look on my face. “No, why? Do you need me to?” Mom responds, the excitement and curiosity in her voice. “No, I don’t need anything, there’s just a box on the porch wrapped in brown paper. There’s not a name or anything on it.” I continued to pick the package up and check all sides for a name. Maybe it was just a mistake, surely someone left it here by accident. Out of nowhere, mom is by my side. Holding the box, and gently shaking it. I asked her not to shake it, but she just looked at me like I was crazy.
By Sarah Smith5 years ago in Families
Mom's Celebration Chocolate Cake
It had been over four years since Matilda had eaten a piece of chocolate cake. The only chocolate cake she had ever eaten was her mother’s special, secret-recipe, Celebration Chocolate Cake. Her mother had made this cake for every celebration and special occasion of Matilda’s life. That is, when she was alive to do it.
By Mackenzie Larsen 5 years ago in Families
THE MOST BEAUTIFUL KIND OF PAIN
The Most Beautiful Kind of Pain Maybe if I cleared everything out of the room, he wouldn’t have anything to throw around this time. This thought went through my head as I watched my son, Arnold, move from one side of the room to the other while kicking his ball. He had just started walking some months ago and that day still topped as the happiest recent day of my life. At the age of one, when other kids were walking and he wasn’t, I had become very worried but he never disappointed me. He just needed more time. Every time I saw him take a step, I felt like my life turned meaningful again. He was the light in the darkness that my marriage to Emeka threw me into. Arnold was now a year and three months and like any toddler, he was always on the move. I put away the suspiciously wrapped brown box that was delivered to our apartment earlier today. It had Emeka’s name on it and I didn’t want it to be the first thing he saw. These days, whenever we got one of those strange packages usually wrapped in brown paper, he got extra angry and mean after opening it. I have no idea what was inside but I didn’t want it to be the first thing he did because it would be if I left it lying in plain sight.
By Nneka Anieze5 years ago in Families
A day worth remembering
It was a very glorious day. I was turning 18 today. All my life I had heard about how hard it was for my mother to take care of me since my father died. Some days I thought she resented him because he did die and left her to take care of me alone. She would work all day long while I was at school and she was so tired all the time. She spent every evening trying to do everything she could and needed to do around the house. I knew I would not get a car or even a new outfit but I did have friends and I was going to celebrate.
By Crystal Dawn Lesher5 years ago in Families
A chocolate story
I sit at the counter waiting for the results, nervously clicking a pen I must have grabbed while at the attorney. It had the number and was more functional than a piece of paper unless you needed to fix a wobbly table. These past two weeks have been absolute hell. I can finally feel my left cheek, and my eye looks horrible, but at least I can see now. I can hear my grandmother coming down the stairs slowly. She enters the room, and our eyes met briefly. I cannot face her, and she cannot look at me what a fright I must be and such a disappointment. With nothing to say, she grabs her worn apron and hands me the spare. I put it on obligatorily while tying the knot, and she begins to dictate to me.
By Page Neihoff5 years ago in Families
DEATH BY CHOCOLATE
DEATH BY CHOCOLATE WRITTEN BY: TIFFANY CALDWELL The mood in the house was an eerie one the day dad went away. We jokingly call it the day the ghost left the building. We got the term from the old saying “Elvis has left the building” because much like Elvis my dad was somewhat of a legend. A high school football star with a full scholarship to Cornell. He had brains and brawn, something that is very uncommon in my small southern town… especially in todays politically correct world of soft sissies and dodo birds. He was a ghost that became a ghost. We hardly ever saw my dad before he left and now, we never see him. He’s gone. Disappeared. Vanished without a trace. He left everything behind. His wife. His kids. His clothes. His car. And a half full glass of milk sitting next to a plate with a piece of mom’s homemade chocolate cake. The cake had never been touched.
By Tiffany Caldwell5 years ago in Families
A Slice of Life
Chase finished his work for the day and saw it was almost time to pick up Maddie from work. It had been five months since she moved back and fixed the old barn; every weekend something seemed to be happening there and it brought the town together. Chase worked with Maddie on hosting the events or planning them. He was even in the process of renting it out to others. Things with them were going good they found they still liked each other a lot and started dating. Even his sister, Emily, reconnected with Maddie and they were hanging out again. Finished with loading his tools, Chase took off towards the bakery.
By Rebecca Hackney5 years ago in Families
Building Sanctuary
Marti pulled into the overgrown circle driveway and sat, staring at her own last name on the big, L-shaped, hip-roofed barn. She had never wanted the name she was given when she first came to this place at age five. She had been Martina Lopez before the farm. Sometimes Abuela called her “Marti”, but the way she said it, with a rolled “r” and long vowels was musical. The flat, midwestern pronunciation of her new family just wasn’t the same. “Your name is Mar-dee Miller now,” they told her. She hated it, but she didn’t have much choice. For as long as she could remember, Abuela and Catarina had taken care of her. But then Abuela had a stroke and the lady said that Catarina, at age nine, wasn’t old enough to take care of them. Not that she hadn’t tried. Cat had always been a little mother – looking after everyone else. Even now, her older sister had taken time out of her busy, suburban mom life to call and make sure Marti was okay.
By Allison Rice5 years ago in Families
The Waiting Sticks
Brittle grass crunched beneath the man’s tired boots, which were greying with age and folding away at the corners. Still they carried him dutifully up the crest of the pasture, away from the sodden bales of hay and the crooked, lichen-drenched fences.
By Lanie Campbell5 years ago in Families
