immediate family
Blood makes you related, loyalty makes you family.
The One Where Monique Feels "The Fear"
It’s time for me to strike out on my own. This time will be different though because I won’t be able to come back. It’s so strange that this place that was only ever supposed to be a temporary pit stop has become the most constant thing in my life.
By Monique Molnar5 years ago in Families
Little Black Book
Chewing Gum. $.15 Bandaids $1.49 Toothpicks .45 The neat columns fill page after page in the black notebook. His handwriting was strong, even flamboyant, but disciplined and meticulous at the same time. Like him. A raconteur, a bon vivant who enjoyed a glass of beer, would throw back his head and laugh with friends, but also a competitive athlete, a man who methodically performed his physical exercises every morning and read every book twice through in case he had missed something the first time. There are dozens of notebooks in this cabinet, because my father wrote down every penny he spent. He gave my mother the same gift every birthday and Valentine's Day. He filled the three family cars with gas every Saturday.
By Joan Anderson5 years ago in Families
The Leap
I was making breakfast when there was a knock at my door. My boyfriend, Travis jogged to get it as I took the steaks out of the cast iron skillet. While I waited for him to return, I fixed our plates and listened out for anything interesting. I didn’t hear a word; not a casual greeting or the surprised reaction of my mother finding Travis in my apartment.
By Maya Bibby5 years ago in Families
Nine of Cups
Vikki Coffey is thirteen years old. She will be fourteen on August 12, 1995. Her siblings are all showered and in bed. All school uniforms for tomorrow are ironed and ready to go. Lunches are packed in brown paper bags complete with crust-less prosciutto cotto and sliced artichoke sandwiches. She can go to sleep now. It’s 9:45 pm. Today’s her favorite day of the week: Sunday! Every Sunday she takes all her siblings with her to a gathering at her school. It is a peaceful routine compared to the chaotic and unstable household she lives in. Vikki takes them to the park behind the school afterwards too. She attends a non-denominational school in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. At the weekly gatherings they learn about manifesting, affirmations, astrology, chakras, growing your own food, grounding techniques, herbs, and how to meditate. Learning these tools for life gives her strength and hope. She sits on her bed to meditate. She opens her well-worn journal. Vikki reads a passage out loud that she learned at school: “Whatever you visualize during meditation, believe that you have already received it, and it will be yours.” Vikki starts to purposefully write out her manifestation statements just like they do in homeroom every morning. After meditating, she writes a new affirmation: “Thank you love energy for this, for me, that you financially provide a way for my mother, siblings, and I to all live together without our father in a new home in the best way for me and all involved or something better and thank you love energy for this, for me.” She meditates carefully visualizing her affirmation and opens her eyes to write about her day in her journal:
By Nikki Torres5 years ago in Families
Footlocker of Fortune
As he burst through the courthouse door, Cody jumped for joy as an immense sense of relief flooded over him. It had been 6 months since his great-uncle died and finally all the legalities were done. Cody Lightfeather is now the proud owner of his own home- his first! Which is perfect since just a month before he asked Mariah to marry him. He was sad to lose his uncle, Rod RedElk, but sometimes misfortunes can lead to good fortune. Passing on at the ripe old age of 96, his Uncle Rod had lived a good long life.
By Janet Freedland5 years ago in Families
The Back Room
When I was growing up, I spent a lot of time at my grandma’s house. All of the decorations there were floral patterned and smelled like an old book and cigarettes. Scattered throughout the living room and hallways were pictures of my grandma with my mom, dad, and myself. It was as if nobody existed outside of us four. Her life was a simple bundle of four, but she was always alone. The house didn’t change as the years went by, and I can even now picture the layout so perfectly that I could walk it blindfolded. It’s strange how much you understand a person by the rooms they inhabit and those they ignore. Her house had a long hallway that ran away from the living room. Next to the living room was the pale-yellow kitchen with the wood cabinets that would creak when you would walk by them. Down the hallway was a series of four alternating wooden doors with hardware of gold and handles made of yellowing plastic that was meant to look like glass. The doors barely fit into their places and would scrape the carpet with a semicircle when opened. The first room on the left was the laundry room that stunk like soap and stale water, even from the outside. The two doors on the right were her bedroom and her bathroom with the green toilet, green tiles, and green sink. At the far back of the house, down the long hallway was a door that I never saw a soul go into, not even my grandma. A phantom room with no occupant and no apparent purpose.
By Dalton Frizzell5 years ago in Families
Old Movies
Ernie sat cross-legged on the tattered powder blue carpet, a VHS copy of "Some Like it Hot" in one hand, and a can of warm, flat Mr. Pibb in the other. Her dad hoarded Mr. Pibb like some folks hoard cats. Speaking of which, she noticed a glob of dried cat puke near her right ankle, and absent-mindedly began to pick at it. How long had THAT been there, she wondered?
By Margaret Anich5 years ago in Families
