immediate family
Blood makes you related, loyalty makes you family.
"Millions to One"
It is after midnight. The Kimball residence in South Highlands is dark, save a light on in the living room. Rose Kimball sits alone in her nightgown, overcome with emotion. She laughs, smiles, sniffs and sobs. The middle aged woman looks once more at the well worn “little black book” in her hand, gently closes it, and works to compose herself. Slowly, Rose creaks her way upright, turns out the light and heads to bed.
By Joey D Kent5 years ago in Families
Pennies From Heaven
The dusty tan Impala station wagon slowed to a crawl in yet another tiny town in the southern Okanagan region of British Columbia. Nearly as road weary as the car, a passel of children tumbled out of all available passenger doors as the driver, a woman with dark hair pulled into two long ponytails draped over her ears, eased to the curb along what appeared to be the town’s main street. The woman and the smallest child, a blond boy, headed for a bank across the street from the parked vehicle. The other two children looked up and down the road and then selected a bank about a block away. The girl appeared older, though not much taller than the boy, but she led the way confidently as if she knew exactly what she was doing and where she was going. The boy, looking mildly annoyed followed a half pace behind.
By Maria Calderoni5 years ago in Families
The Final Christmas Tree
Walking the long way back to her seat from Mr. Robertson’s desk, Catherine glanced outside the tall thin window to see if it had started snowing yet. Living in the Selkirk mountains you’d think the children would tire of the deep snow, but to the contrary each new downpour was celebrated. It was almost Christmas vacation and the student’s were eager for long days romping and cavorting through the snowy yards and neighborhoods. At nine, Catherine was a slight girl, the shortest in her class. Short yes, but not in confidence. She and David Stewart, who was of similar stature, constantly vied for the moniker “Smartest Kid in the class.” Though never conferred as such by the teachers, they compared every grade and test and constantly asked for extra work to stay ahead. Both David and Catherine were well behaved and often called upon to be the teacher’s helper. On this particular day they were racing each other to finish the most times table worksheets. Though only third graders they had cajoled the teacher into giving them multi digit multiplication worksheets and each worked diligently trying to finish the most problems correctly. When the lunch bell rang, these two stayed put finishing their final problems until the teacher grabbed their work and sent them off to get lunch. “It’s snowing!” excitedly called a first grader from the eastern corner of the large one room schoolhouse. The first and second graders had the best view outside as their classes faced the large playground and they had larger windows. Everyone rushed to finish their homemade lunches, eating at their desks and then cleaning up quickly. It was a race to get outside and make the first footprints in all the fresh snow! The snow banks were already taller than the tallest children and the untouched snow, though there wasn’t much of that, was at least 3 feet deep. And now more was coming down rapidly.
By Maria Calderoni5 years ago in Families
A Creative Ledger
A Creative Ledger Chapter 1: Keeping Track I looked to my hands, black, covered in tar, and took a heavy seat in the front of the truck. Another job done. Another tick off the list. The barrel of tar was still half full and would need to be lifted into the back of the trailer. Aside from that, we were ready to move on. I wiped my hands across my trousers, and opened the little black book, careful not to smudge the address we were headed to next.
By Janelle Bange5 years ago in Families
And So It Happens
Florida put her hands over her face. It was enough. It was too much. She could no longer pretend that everything was okay. It wasn’t. It had not been for a long time. She blew out a breath, or maybe she should be taking one in. Either way, she felt calmer. She almost broke down for a minute, and that would not do in front of her sixth-grade math class.
By Fatima Hyman5 years ago in Families
The Black Book
Jeff opened the door to find Miranda standing there. Her face was blotchy and wet with tears and snot. She looked like a child again; his little girl who had fallen and scraped her knee. She did not move or look at his face. He did not need to see her eyes. He knew them too well. Emerald green with a gold ring at their center. Even when she cried, they were still beautiful, an exact replica of her mother’s eyes. Just a quick glance at them and he would be hooked again. He was relieved that she was looking down, it made closing the door easier.
By Jessica Swearingen5 years ago in Families
The Ripped Notebook
It’s your average Monday morning in the Johnson household with her best friend. They get on with their day as usual by eating breakfast and cleaning up. Then, they drive off to work at 8 am and nothing unusual usually happens in the quiet country town of Deer Hills until tonight. Mary and Chloe get home from work around 3 in the afternoon. As soon as they get home from work, they sit down on the couch and watch tv together. The show they’re watching is called, “Murder Mysteries,” which is not as creepy as it sounds. They’re invested in the show, and then Chloe says: “Oooh, that’s creepy. Let’s watch more,” with excitement in her eyes. “In a minute. I have to go down to the basement for something.” Mary says. “Do you want me to come with?” Chloe asks. “No, I’ll be okay, but thanks anyway.” Mary replies calmly. “Good, ‘cause your basement creeps me out anyways,” Chloe retorts. “Oh, come on, you know it’s not that scary,” Mary says while rolling her eyes. Then, Mary walks down to her basement around 6 pm to grab some extra food out of the fridge that’s down there, but as soon as she turned on the light, she screams because she finds something that was never there before. As soon as Chloe heard her scream, she sprints down to the basement and asks frantically, “What’s wrong?!” Mary shouts, “Look!” while pointing at the ripped little black notebook. As soon as Chloe sees the notebook, she freezes in fear. Mary looks at her while waving her hand in front of her face asking, “Chloe are you okay?” Chloe snaps out of her trance and answers, “Ya, I’m f-f-fine,” as she stutters her words a bit. “How about you go on upstairs and I’ll figure this out, okay?” Mary tells her. “Wait, what?! Are you crazy?!” Chloe shouts. “Crazy about what?” Mary asks confused. “You’re really going to investigate that ripped notebook without even knowing who it’s from nor where it came from?” Chloe asks. “Ya, why?” Mary answers. “You crazy,” Chloe tells her and then sprints back upstairs.
By Courtney Lee5 years ago in Families
I'm Your Daughter
Dress. Aisle. Seat. Ceremony. Pictures. The list repeats in my head. I want to make sure I don’t forget it, even though I’ve had it memorized for what feels like a lifetime. Dress. Aisle. Seat. Ceremony. Pictures. That’s all, I just have to get through those five things. I figure the reception will be so packed that I won’t have to deal with her, that’ll be Dad and Isaac’s job. She’ll see the dress, we’ll have our moment, then they’ll walk me down the aisle before taking their seats, leaving me home free for the ceremony and reception. Guilt creeps into my mind. I shouldn’t be looking forward to not interacting with her.
By M.A.R. Leigh5 years ago in Families
Authentic Christmas
Christmas trees have always been a peculiar thing to me. The first time I learned about Christmas I was around 12. It was in the middle school classroom of a small southwestern town of China. My English teacher played a Christmas Carol for us. I don't remember exactly which one, but it was beautiful. I learned that Christmas was a very important holiday in the West and people celebrate it with Christmas trees and carols. Later, I read about Christmas trees in Anton Chekhov’s story, “Vanka”. I fell in love with that story and Chekhov right away. It has been my favorite story since then, even though I did not understand the purpose of having a Christmas tree either in or out of the story. All I know is the tree makes the story bittersweet and beautiful.
By Cheyenne Huang5 years ago in Families
MARTY’S LITTLE BLACK BOOK
MARTY’S LITTLE BLACK BOOK His voice carried half-way across the store: “Mom, mom! Come check this out!” I rarely hear that level of excitement from my 11-year old son. He’s the youngest boy in my trio of what I call “typical” boys—preteen and growing up too fast. Anyway, Marty got my attention by waving wildly along with the exuberant voice and huge smile I could see from aisles away.
By Janna Bruns5 years ago in Families
