literature
Families and literature go hand in hand; fictional families to entertain, reflect and inspire.
The Artists' Way
‘He’d be so proud if he knew,’ she thought to herself, as she gazed at the folds of the plane’s wing out of the thick plexiglass of the cabin window. She pondered the magnificence of this moment, where she would finally touch the earth of her family’s heritage before they migrated to America. She was thinking of her Grandfather, and how he would be rejoicing if only he were still here to know of it. He’d passed away not long before she accepted the job to conserve the famous Il Bacio (The Kiss) in Milan. Her Grandfather’s passion for art had been one of the strongest bonds they shared together. Once, he too was an art conservator as a young man in Italy. But that was a lifetime ago.
By Shauna Lynch5 years ago in Families
My Dad is Magic
As a child, I remember my father always carrying around a red handkerchief, a small multi-use tool (which included a hammer, blade, wrench, and Phillips screw driver all in one), and a small black book with a pen. With these items in his possession, anything was possible. ANYTHING. According to our family, my father is considered a Gomez legend. Although I truly enjoy listening to all of their stories about him, it is not necessary for me to learn about his greatness because I had my own first-hand experiences.
By Summer Gomez5 years ago in Families
The Book
"No matter what, promise you'll take care of yourself." His brilliant blue eyes had already begun to fade as his large hand trembled in hers. Pleading with her, he pulled her closer, "promise me Elizabeth that you will always try your best." Elizabeth watched helplessly as the life continued to fade from his once strong body, "the answer is in the barn…" with widened eyes and a ragged breath he was gone.
By Megan Fontes5 years ago in Families
Just like I imagined it
Sitting in the hospital dining room, looking down at the floor, wondering what would be the last book my loved one would read. Reading new stories was our hobby, and maybe this would be the last. I wanted it to be the best. I looked for several books, but none were inspiring compared to the ones we've read. I gazed towards the window; perhaps the peaceful sky would honor me with an answer. As I was staring at it, my peripheral sight caught a man dress in black sitting at one of the tables. He seemed to be writing something on the last page of a little notebook. He closed it and placed a sticky note on the front cover. He took a breath, reached his carry-on bag, got up, set the notebook in the center of the table, and left. I was puzzled. I exchanged sights between him walking away and the table. Should I catch up to him to let him know that he forgot his black notebook? I froze.
By Ricardo Marquez5 years ago in Families
My Dad is Magic
As a child, I remember my father always carrying around a red handkerchief, a small multi-use tool (which included a hammer, blade, wrench, and Phillips screw driver all in one), and a small black book with a pen. With these items in his possession, anything was possible. ANYTHING. According to our family, my father is considered a Gomez legend. Although I truly enjoy listening to all of their stories about him, it is not necessary for me to learn about his greatness because I had my own first-hand experiences.
By Summer Gomez5 years ago in Families
Inheritance
The house of my father’s father stood at the end of a tree lined driveway, overgrown and untended. Muscular roots snaked under the road, opening gaping potholes into which the rainwater pooled, causing my old Ford to lurch alarmingly, creaking and complaining at every indignity.
By M. A. Rolli5 years ago in Families
Journals
And that tiny speck there is your little baby girl’s heartbeat... The words float through my head like fluffy clouds on a warm summer day as I step into the bookstore, my legs passing in front of a sensor that lets off a pleasant ding, letting the attendant know a new customer has arrived.
By Chris Nicholas5 years ago in Families
Oak Hill
On a brisk November morning I had stood at my father’s grave for the first time in ten years. It was also the first time I stepped foot on my family’s estate, Oak Hill. My father was the only person that called me by my first name, Jessabelle, when everyone else just called me Elle. It was unseasonably cold that day, my breath wafted around me like pipe smoke. The sun shone through a lens of low clouds and occasionally bounced off the granite tombstones in a kaleidoscopic dance. It was quiet, somber, and lonely, but the way the birds sang their melancholy tune was beautiful in its own way and it helped put my mind at ease.
By Miranda Gaskin5 years ago in Families
Like a Firefly Caught In A Jelly Jar
The sun felt warm and comforting as 17-year-old Katie fished off the edge of the pier, feet dangling. Grammy Rue sat nearby in a collapsible lawn chair, her line in the water as well. While waiting for dinner to bite, they sat in a comfortable silence that can only be established by people who know each so well, they can coexist in complete relaxation. Katie spoke first. “Mama should be back from the beauty pageant soon. She sure looked pretty, didn’t she Grammy?” “Mmm...that she did.” Grammy Rue answered simply. Katie’s mama, Cheryl was a beautiful woman. Though not a scholar or particularly interesting by any means, Cheryl commanded attention whenever she entered a room. Blessed with long, thick, wavy blonde hair, enormous blue eyes, a perfectly pert little nose, full pouty lips, and voluptuous figure, Cheryl was voted Most Beautiful in her high school and served as their head cheerleader. At 15, she began dating Bobby, two years her senior, none too bright, but tall dark and handsome, and the school’s star quarterback. Bobby got a job at the local construction plant after his graduation. All the while he continued to date his perfect princess, but unfortunately he got her pregnant during the fall of her Junior year. By winter’s end, Cheryl had dropped out of high school, begun night classes, and received her GED at the end of May, two weeks before welcoming baby Katie into the world. Cheryl was barely 17. Bobby and Cheryl tried their best, but unfortunately their best wasn’t enough. They married shortly after Katie’s birth and the young marriage lasted three years. Inevitable pressures cast upon the inexperienced couple took their toll. Money woes, arguments and infidelity on both sides ensued until they ultimately decided to part ways. Cheryl moved back home, got a job waitressing at the local diner, and made extra cash competing in local beauty pageants. Little Katie was often left with her Grammy Rue, who was more like a mother to her than Cheryl was and whom Katie loved dearly. Money was tight, but love was plentiful.
By Jacob Schleien5 years ago in Families
Grandma and Her Small Black Notebook
It will be eight years in June that she passed away. Eight long, lonely years without her. Her name was Angeline but she was known by Julia or Julie. I’m not quite sure why but this was common in her large Italian family. Each of her siblings were also known by a name other than their given name. I asked her about this many times. She lived until the age of 101 so we had many conversations about her life. She said that her mother could not speak English well but that explanation never made much sense to me. Why would someone give their children names they couldn’t pronounce regardless of how well they could speak English? But that was Grandma Julie, a fun loving, always entertaining grandmother. Her stories were always interesting and probably mostly truthful with a little bit of exaggeration thrown in for fun.
By Margie Anderson 5 years ago in Families
The Evermore Account
Mary wiped her brow with the back of her sleeve. Despite working at the diner for the past fifteen years, the dinner rush always had her hoping. Her favorite time was late in the evening when there were only a few customers, and she could pack up and head home to see her son, Jaden. His sixth birthday was around the corner and she’d been saving all her tips for a toy and a cake.
By Jacob LeVasseur5 years ago in Families
