parents
The boundless love a parent has for their child is matched only by their capacity to embarrass them.
Demented Fractals
The call came to me in December 2017 from a family friend. It was the day I realized how tenuous life truly is... My mother and I had been estranged for a little over ten years, having ceased communication in totality once and for all after she disavowed me for not being the daughter she wanted and raised me to be. The family friend called, telling me I might need to come home to help my mother stay safe inside her home. He then stated that she was last taken to the hospital when she was discovered to have been wandering aimlessly on the highway at two in the morning. She was picked up by police that night in the middle of a freezing December day, wearing only a house robe and slippers. When the police apprehended her, she apparently couldn't even speak intelligibly when they asked her wellness questions such as, "What's your name?" and "Where do you live?" She simply stuttered in disjointed syllables and acted as though she couldn't catch her breath.
By Velia Sanders8 years ago in Families
Absent Doesn't Always Mean Gone
We’ve all heard the saying, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.” But, what happens when someone is absent, but still physically there? Imagine this: there’s a girl about ten years old sitting on a row of bleachers. There’s a game of Little League baseball going on in the ball diamond in front of her. A lot of people are around her, playing and spectating, but she’s alone. She’s watching a little boy, around the same age as her, swing and miss the ball again.
By Ash William8 years ago in Families
The Antisocial Mother
The Anti-social woman was a young, smart, and beautiful woman who lived only until she was 42. Consumed by rage and jealousy, her demise was playing a game of poker with the devil himself. She was a middle child and the only girl. She was a straight-A student, top of her class with a bright future ahead of her. She studied to be a Psych-tech nurse just like her single mother.
By Lina Corrales8 years ago in Families
Being a Young Mom
Being a young mom isn't the easiest thing you could think of. I had my son when I was 19. Going to all those doctors appointments, hearing all the big words all the doctors had to say—it was really scary! I'm here to tell you, if you're young like I was, you can do it. It is possible to be a young mother; it's just harder than if you were actually prepared.
By Emilee Walsh8 years ago in Families
Mother Is a Verb
This is not a letter to my mother. It is NOT some grandiose trip to make others dig real deep for some sympathy for the little girl that was abandoned by her mother. Truth is there are a lot of kids out there with situations just like mine, if not so much worse. Kids feeling that longing for a connection, to feel loved. However, this is not for them either. Not yet, anyway. This is a for MY mother. This is for me and how I learned to become a woman that socially carries the "daughter" title without a true understanding of what that means. This is for all the fears I carry with me because of her.
By Ash Bennett8 years ago in Families
Gone
Coward. Coward is all I can think. Back then when I was five, you were a hero. When I was 13, I would go to you first for anything. When I was 18, I had my first heartfelt conversation with you and we cried together. When I was 21, you broke my heart. You didn't break my heart slowly, you allowed it to linger, hanging on a single hinge for a week. You spoke to me of things I shouldn't have had to deal with on my own, you made me lie and hide words. You let me cry for your stupidity and disappointed me every time I'd see a drink in your hand. You probably thought it was OK, felt relieved even, to get those words off your chest and share them with someone close. But with those words you condemned me. You changed your ways with the world. You stopped caring, you yelled in front of people who shouldn't have heard it. You were the person I looked up to, an idol of sorts. You were the safety at home, the protector. Then you slowly became the absentee, the runner. I would stay up late nights to make sure you'd be home, wondering, worrying. I would hear the fights. I felt the pain.
By Melanie Guajardo8 years ago in Families
Fatherless
"I'm gonna go call my dad, okay?" I chirped happily, hopping down from the sticky kitchen table, picking up a cookie on my way out of the room. I was six years old and had already memorized my father's telephone number and would call him almost every day in a desperate attempt to make him love me.
By Mary-Beth Shelley8 years ago in Families
