humanity
Humanity begins at home.
My Aunt, Sweet Like Honey Lamb Chops
Some people thought she was my mom. We were both light in complexion, thick girls, and always laughing when we were together. Bus she wasn't my mom- she was my mother's only sister, my aunt. And in many ways, she was like a second mother to me.
By MelCreates8 months ago in Families
The Housekeeper Silently Left After 5 Years
When the Wilson family hired Maria as their live-in housekeeper, they never imagined how deeply she would impact their lives. Quiet, hardworking, and private, she maintained their home with care and dedication. She never shared details of her past, nor did she speak much about herself. Over five years, she became a trusted and comforting presence — until one morning, she was simply gone.
By DigitalAddi8 months ago in Families
My Friend Ghosted Me After My Mother Died
A few years ago, I met someone at a writing retreat whom I thought would be in my life forever. This might sound a tad over-the-top, but when you have a connection with someone, you hope it never goes away. And for a period there, it didn’t.
By Carol Saint Martin8 months ago in Families
The Unseen Hero: My Father's Silent Struggles
My earliest memories of my father are quiet ones. Not loud laughs or booming lectures, but moments stitched together by silence, sweat, and soft gestures. He wasn’t the type to teach life lessons with words. He taught them with action—the kind of action that often went unnoticed by everyone except the people who needed it most.
By Fazal Hadi8 months ago in Families
The Man Who Taught Me Courage
I was eight the first time I saw my father cry. It was a quiet Sunday afternoon in late spring. The kind where the sun soaked the front porch in golden light, and all you could hear was the occasional bark of a dog or the hum of a neighbor's lawn mower. My dad sat on the wooden steps, shoulders slumped, hands clasped between his knees. I stood by the screen door, peeking out through the mesh.
By Fazal Hadi8 months ago in Families
Steam of Hope
I was lucky enough to be raised by my grandmother on my maternal side. She wasn't just a caregiver-she was a spiritual teacher who used food as a language of faith. She always said, "Put your faith in everything you cook so it could become more than enough. "As a child. I didn't understand it. But as grew older and had to feed my own family, her words became my lifeline.
By MelCreates8 months ago in Families
Father's Day Is Meaningless. Content Warning.
Greetings, Vocal readers and Happy Father's Day to all the dads, especially the single dads out there. Usually every year on this day, I would post a picture of my late grandfather on social media. This year, however, my feelings about Father's Day has changed and it's no longer a big deal to me. My faithful readers and subscribers know about my now estranged parents and the horrific abuse I've suffered in their hands. In this story, I'm solely going to focus on my estranged father. For those who are new and unfamiliar with my life and how I grew up, I'll share that with everyone right now.
By Mark Wesley Pritchard 8 months ago in Families
"More Than Just Friends? Exploring the Truth About Male-Female Friendships"
The question of whether men and women can sustain purely platonic friendships is as enduring as it is complex. While countless individuals affirm the possibility, others contend that such relationships are invariably laced with romantic or sexual undertones. To truly assess this dynamic, we must explore the intersection of evolutionary instincts, cultural narratives, and gender norms, while also considering the emotional nuances and practical realities of modern friendships.
By Whispers of Yousaf8 months ago in Families
The Trip
Chapter 1 “Dad!” yelled Nathan excitedly as he clicked his seatbelt in place, “Let’s go!” Nathan was an average 10-year-old high-spirited little boy. His laughing brown eyes, which he inherited from his mother, were anxiously watching his dad stow away their camping gear in the rear of their beat-up old jeep. Nathan was warmly dressed in a red flannel shirt with a white t-shirt underneath and a fur lined all-weather coat to combat the snow and the cold that was forecasted for their weekend in the mountains. Today was the start of the annual camping trip with his dad and he couldn’t wait to get on the road. “Alright, alright, I’m coming,” George Lancaster said with a slight smile as he put the last bag into the jeep. Nathan was always so eager to get on the road. He and Nathan had been taking their annual father/son camping trip for the last five years, starting when Nathan was only five. George always looked forward to it, even more so now that Nathan was getting older. He knew that soon Nathan would be more interested in hanging out with his friends than spending time with him. “Ok, son are you ready?” George asked as he took one last look in the trunk to make sure everything was packed. He was also dressed warmly in a similar red flannel long sleeved shirt as Nathans. He had on jeans, long underwear and a heavy coat that should stand up to the snow, wind and cold. His longish black hair was covered up with a cap. “Yep, let’s go dad,” Nathan said as he looked over to see his dad coming around the car. He loved going camping with his dad every year. They would pitch their tents, gather firewood, and then go fishing. Nathan loved fishing. He and his dad had a standing bet that the one that caught the most fish would select the camping location for the next year, and he was determined to win this year. George opened the door to the family’s old Jeep Cherokee. It had seen better days and wasn’t in the best shape, but it was part of their camping tradition, and he loved it.
By Dandrea Walton9 months ago in Families
The Window That Cried
In a quiet town wrapped in mist, stood an old wooden house on the corner of Hollow Street. It wasn’t the biggest house, nor the brightest, but something about it made people slow down as they walked by. Maybe it was the strange ivy that grew only on one side. Or perhaps it was the small window on the second floor the one everyone called The Window That Cried.
By Muhammad Hayat9 months ago in Families
When Shared Our Last Meal with Our Dog-And Miracle Followed
In 2017, my family and I faced one of the hardest times of our lives. With money gone and cupboards nearly empty, we found ourselves counting every meal. One day, we had only a single loaf of bread to split between six people-and our loyal dog. What happened after that simple act of love reminded me that miracles still exist, and that food isn't just for survival- it's a language of care, even across species.
By MelCreates9 months ago in Families
