humanity
Humanity begins at home.
And I, Like Her
The cool air of the pre-sunrise morning. I’d forgotten what it was like, how sweet and crisp it felt. I’ve been up with the sunrise here in Houston, but never outside for it. This air is where I truly thrive, the calm before the rest of the world wakes up. As cool as it is, this is still May in Houston, TX. I can smell the humidity and coming heat.
By Nick Blocha5 years ago in Families
To the Firefighters....
During everything that has been done to me, when two years ago I wanted to do employment cases for police, EMS, and firefighters and public employees..which somehow the firefighters have always managed to help me hold on to that dream by being the only ones who haven't made it harder while they couldn't do anything to but watch law enforcement and EMS do anything but protect and serve..You still remain my heroes. I don't blame every police officer, every EMT..you just don't victimize one of your own. There is not a firefighter I can say has ever done that.
By Justice for All5 years ago in Families
The Maple Grove
When winter meets spring late in March, as the snow melts and stems push through the ground, trying to reach the sky, the sap of the sugar maple begins to run. The tears of happiness seep from the woken trees. A sign that they have survived, the long sleep of the frozen landscape. This is the time that our harvest begins from the forest.
By Dg Clearing5 years ago in Families
My Heroes Have Always Been Mother's,
I have quite a few heroes, there are the ones' I was blessed by being born into their lives, some I have met along my journey, and some were the blessings I gave birth to. I will focus on the ones who are Mother's, since this is the energy that ultimately made me the woman I am today. I would not possess the strength to overcome the things I have gone through if it weren't for every one of these women. I am grateful to each for each and every one of them.
By Trisha Behrens5 years ago in Families
What Grandma Knew...
I am lucky enough to be getting older, officially in my “late 50’s”. And in this last year of retrospect (I had lots of time on my hands), I’ve thought of some of the things I’ve experienced. When I say I’m lucky to be getting older, I mean it. I really should have died on several occasions, but for providence, I did not. So here I sit, relatively intact, typing out some of the lessons that I have connected to my grandmother. Things I didn’t understand until now.
By Amy Willard5 years ago in Families
Meeting the new school child
As parents, we deliver our children to school with trembling hearts. It's like letting all barriers fall and still being on guard at all times. We want them to be accepted both by the community and not least by the community's teachers and educators in power. We want them to keep up and become skilled or at least as competent as possible for them. In addition, we hand over the child with the experience we made ourselves as a child in school. It is not always that we manage to separate the experiences we got in school from our children's experiences. Therefore, our way of meeting the school will depend on what knowledge we have gained and what we expect from the new our children must meet.
By Mette Honoré5 years ago in Families
More Than Just My Mom
I grew up being jealous of the friends I had with one mom and one dad, happily married, one big happy family. Mine was different, I was four when my dad left my mom and I remembered when I saw her in tears. Things were never going to be the same. My siblings and I were introduced to my dad’s girlfriend shortly after. This woman became my stepmom. My mom was the single mother all my life, she worked hard, and got by. We didn’t have much, but she did everything she could when she could, to give us the things we needed and wanted. My mom struggled with depression and I didn’t notice until I was older how overwhelmed she had become with life and how hard she really struggled just to get by and stay afloat. However, my mother was always smiling even in the hardest of times, doing what she could to put a smile on others faces. My stepmom, we didn’t get along much until I was about 23 years old. She is a head strong, hard working ambitious woman. She worked hard for her career and her money and always had It. If we needed or wanted something, we normally had it, within reason of course.
By Chelsea Hope5 years ago in Families
Brown I Own
Wednesday, October 31, 1931 - He was born hard and feisty. Screamed so loud the nurse nearly dropped him. Good morning, Clay. Babe who fussed in his mom’s arms. He was a dark nut brown. Darker than the babe before. Grandpa Roy, a common law husband, waved his hand. “Not mine.” Grandma held him closer. “What does it matter? Color of skin. He’s yours. He’s mine.” She was a migrant farm worker. Anxious to leave the California hospital so she could make money in the fields. She placed him next to Uncle Smile. Ismael. They would always be united by her heart, womb, blood thicker than old viscous glass dripping like windows in some distant English manor.
By Risa Christy Peris5 years ago in Families
