family
Hidden In The Closet
It was a hot summer! I had traveled from California to Oklahoma to give my sister Lynn a break. She was a full time care giver for our elderly mother. Lynn picked me up from the airport and we began our two hour road trip to the small town in Northern Oklahoma were she lived with my Mom. My Mom had stayed home with our friend Shirley, who was keeping a watchful eye on Mom in Lynn's short absence. My mother could no longer deal with heat and was on oxygen 24/7. We chatted about our respective residences and joked as we usually did. We were thirsty so we pulled into a road side market for a bathroom break and drinks. When we re-entered the vehicle Lynn's expression had changed. She looked troubled.
By Pamela Johnson5 years ago in Fiction
#blessed
The kettle barely has a chance to whistle before she removes it from the burner. Water heated to precicely one hundred ninety degrees is poured into the gleaming cylinder of the french press, already prepared with coarse-ground, organic, freshly-roasted coffee beans from an ethically sourced farm in Columbia. A timer is set for four minutes. While she waits, she leans against the countertop and opens up her phone.
By Lindsay Rae5 years ago in Fiction
Cigarette Freeze
“Why are you smoking? You don’t smoke,” I say to myself. You don’t smoke. Your father smokes. You don’t smoke, I repeat, looking into my pristine mirror that I cleaned meticulously for ten minutes. No streaks, just smoke. “I don’t smoke,” I say, and I blow the Marlboro’s burning taste out from my chapped lips. I just came from a funeral. And my mom gave me his cigarettes. My father’s last pack. My father always said he’d quit. He said he’d always stop. Half a pack a day. Just a few a day. “You don’t even smoke!” I whisper, the tendrils of gray whispering sweet suffering and tender hearted memories. He quit drinking, but he still smoked.
By Melissa Ingoldsby5 years ago in Fiction
Learning to Love
Callie unbuckled the car seat straps and lifted one-year old Jack from the car seat. She debated about getting the stroller out of the trunk and decided instead to carry him to the playground. The sun was shining and there was a light breeze ruffling the leaves on the oaks surrounding the park. Around the smaller trees were beds of marigolds, freshly planted. She was pleased to see it wasn’t too crowded, but it was a Tuesday, her normal day off work. Jack babbled happily and clapped his hands, his latest trick, as they approached the swing set. She plopped him in the baby swing and gave him some gentle pushes. He squealed for more, and she pushed him harder. He had no fear; he hadn’t learned that yet and she hoped he never would, but knew it wasn’t likely.
By Shelly Slade5 years ago in Fiction
A Slice of German Chocolate Birthday Cake
It’s funny. Growing up, my grandmother was one of the most important people in my entire little world. Well, both my grandparents were, but my grandmother, most of all, was integral to shaping me into the person I was to become.
By C. H. Crow5 years ago in Fiction
Little Black Girl
Standing here I can hear them yelling. I told you! I told you that she wouldn't last one second! You see I was the only little black girl in my town. No one looked like me, not even my own mother. My Black father was long gone before my birth, and my mom is as white as the unseasoned chicken breast we ate most nights for dinner. People will say they are nice to us because they have a smile on their face when they address us as Lauren and her Black girl. The kids call me Lacionna although my actual name is just Laci. My teachers give me less work because they said I won't succeed. My mother calls me her Mocha Hope although she called my dreams crazy. My home, my school, the grocery stores, the churches and the parks and there was no one around like me. People didn't understand why I was different. There were wispers about how I became this way. Those were things I learned to block out later in life. I knew who I was and why. I also knew plenty of people on TV that looked like me. I couldn't understand why others couldn't see it.
By Akeva Clarke5 years ago in Fiction
