immediate family

Blood makes you related, loyalty makes you family.

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Frowning at herself in the mirror, Anto raked her long, slender fingers through her blonde hair, feeling the unsatisfying brittle texture of each lock. She’d tried so many natural remedies and hair masks to fix the damage that was done to her hair but nothing ever worked. She scoured the internet and flipped through countless magazines only to feel helpless in the end. She looked at her reflection with dissatisfaction, bringing her fingers up to her face to gently caress her skin. She wanted so badly to look like the other girls her age, who had perfect button noses, silky hair, and glowing skin. Of course, these looks can be easily achieved through makeup and photoshop, but there was not enough makeup in the world to fix her blemishes and no amount of photoshopping could ever fix her insecurities. She sighed, beginning to braid her damp hair into two pigtails, getting ready to air-dry them. She had learned from magazines and online sources that airdrying was much healthier for your hair and hopefully, her naturally straight but frizzy hair could become curly and voluminous, by the time she wakes up in the morning and unbraids her hair. Oh but this wasn’t the first time she’s done this. So, she knew what to expect. Curly...yes. Voluminous...well, big? But perfect? Most definitely not.
By Salem Rosé6 years ago in Families
Life is a Beach!
Life's a beach! My mother was walking up the stairs of my Great Grandma Puckett Huntington's house in Galveston Island, Texas and went into labor with me. I was born at 1:30 p.m. at John Sealy Hospital on thanksgiving day November 25, 1976. My grandma worked at Bank of Galveston and my dad would carry me in my baby carrier showing me off to everyone in the bank saying “See my daughter!”. He was so proud of me and so was my mom and they nicknamed me “Love”. My mother was born in Port Isabel, Texas on August 1, 1952. Port Isabel is a small island in south Texas near South Padre Island, Texas. My mom has five sisters Margie, Irma, Minerva, Chave and Dolores and one brother Norberto Jr. My grandparents Isabel and Norberto Perez were active in their community. They were restaurant owners and the President and Vice President of the V.F.W. because my grandpa was in the navy. My grandmother was also the President of the Auxiliary and they would raise money for the V.F.W. by having dances and selling plates of BBQ. My grandmother said that they raised so much money that they could buy a new facility for the V.F.W. in Port Isabel.
By Irene Rose Johnson6 years ago in Families
Lifestyle
I’ve always wanted to start a blog of some sort. You can gather my surprise when I saw this platform to start writing. I am currently in Nova Scotia and my husband in is Alberta. Yes as most families my husband is away from his family for work and to earn a half decent income to also provide for us. This will be my first of many stories that I’ve lived and learned from.
By Jessica LeBlanc6 years ago in Families
Suitcase Of Dreams
We had a picture-perfect start to 1999. It was the year I would turn 18, a major milestone. This was the age when I thought I would be free from parental control. I should have known better, because Mom was having none of it. Once you lived under her roof, you will always be a child to her no matter your age. She consistently repeat, “Two woman cah live een a one house.” These were the bounda-ries she created. Everyone knew their role and how to play them.
By Hazell McKenzie6 years ago in Families
Mummy Diaries
I cried my eyes out at the thought of losing J, my partner. God that sounds like I’m in a same-sex relationship but honestly boyfriend at the age of 34 sounds awful. It is the first time in months my children have been tender and caring towards me that I can remember. I mean we cuddle and kiss before bed and before school but these are obligatory hugs and expected cwtches (look it up its Welsh).
By Diane Campbell6 years ago in Families
I need to get out
I don't like ceremonies, I would even go as far to say that I dislike them. I was not the kind of kid who'd get ashamed by the mere presence of my parents in public settings, but nor would I enjoy it that much. When I was younger I enjoyed spending time with my mother, and perhaps with my father too, but I always felt like my mom was more emphatic to my life.
By Unidentified Writer6 years ago in Families
The helpless life
Who am I? Do you really want to know ? Hell; sometimes I don’t even know! I have more personality than I can handle, but yet i’m still in this messed up world. It’s not as bad anymore. It’s just getting good. Here I am; in this classroom. Starring at all these people; who wants me to become famous, or just an actress, or actor like myself. My director stands in front of me. With her long reddish hair, slim nice body, and a pale face. With a book in her hand; as if she knows it all. Who can tell me what I am? or What I can, or cannot do? I was born to be successful. When I was five years old; I can remember pain. It’s not a pain where you fall off a bike, and scraped your knee; type of a pain, but one you will never forget in a lifetime. My mother she was a beautiful black women. With almonds shape eyes, and a curvy body; that men would lust for! Truthfully; underneath that pretty smile, and sweet ways; was a conniving, dishonest, money hungry, manipulative, and head strong bold women. She did anything to get what she wanted. My father; disappeared when I was three years old. The things that I could remember about him; he was kind-hearted and giving. He made sure the family was taken care of, but he was a drug addict at the same time. Now; I had my stepfather. Who was a different kind of man. Someone; who is not my father, but doesn’t deserve to be called a stepfather either. He was tall, black or dark skinned; maybe around 5’8. Not a handsome man. Who asked little girls, “to come sit on his lap”, and he give them money ( me in particular) . He always took me places with him. We had gone into the woods; where I shot my first shotgun. It had nearly blown my shoulder off. We went on dirt trails; for him to teach me how to drive. This happened more than once. Not to mention; I had everything a kid wanted (candy). I was happy when I turned seven. I went to go visit my father for two weeks; who lived in California, because my mother went to prison. I was beyond happy to see him. We went to zoos, parks, out to eat ,swimming. We saw a lot of places, and did a bunch of things together with my siblings, cousins, and grandmother (his mother). What my father didn’t know; was that when it got close to bedtime; I was afraid of him! Afraid to sleep next to him, and afraid that he would try things with me. However; it never happened. All he wanted was to comfort me before I slept. I lived with my mother throughout my childhood. All I saw was the blood, the hate, the rage, the fear, the tears, the starvation, and the loss of hope. On a nice day my mother and stepfather would throw bbq’s. We would have them a-lot of the times. On this particular day; we had one it; when I was about 11 years old, and my closest bother was 12 years old. He was short like me, but a little taller than myself. He had high yellow-brownish skin. He was handsome, and clean cut; with eyes that capture tramps. He was a smooth talker with no action. My brother 18 years old; was tall 6 1 dark skinned, and handsome; with a personality that girls couldn't get a enough. He was a chill, cool, and laid-back kind of brother. My other brother; who was 15 years old had reddish-brown skin. He was not too tall, but had golden hair with a low cut, and golden skinned hairs; like mine on his arms. They were smooth and nice. He could be evil at the same time. He also could be a ladies man. However; it would have been many; if they weren’t afraid of him. All of us waiting around for my mother’s sweet beans, potatoes salad, bbq hamburgers, macaroni and cheese. My aunties and uncles would be in the backyard playing cards. The blues played on the radio. It was definitely a good day. At least for the moment. Out of nowhere it happens! Blood being splattered. My uncle and stepfather were fighting. Both of their faces were covered in blood.My uncle had struck my stepfather across his face. He put a deep gash; where the blood was rushing down the center of his forehead. My stepfather; then struck him back in the face. Now his face was bleeding too. My mother begin to standup for my stepfather. My uncle then struck her in the mouth. Now she was also bleeding. My brother Tony then struck my uncle; for hitting my mother. The police were called, and everything went back to normal. The night falls, and everyone is in their on space. I can hear my other uncle’s truck pull up. It had this loud motor. You could hear it. Especially, if you were at the front of the house. I guess he heard about earlier. I look out the window. He was coming quickly to the front door. He came in and started yelling at my mother. They begin to fight, and my brother helps once again. Only this time it almost took his life. My uncle started fighting my brother; stabbing him in his back. There was a piece of glass left sticking out his back. All the while I could see the blood splatter. As; they continue to fight. My uncle then flees out of the house. He was leaving my brother in the need of medical attention. He was taken to the hospital, but he was not able to tell what really happen. My mother was big on keeping secrets. Her most famous words were, “I will say what goes on in this house; stays in this house”. Her boyfriend would beat her all the time. She was always covered in blood. Tony didn’t know that. He lived with my father’s mother; our grandma. He always would visit in the summers growing up. This year he wanted to stay for good. It was a hot summer night. My stepfather decided he wanted to beat my mother that night. Things didn’t turn out well for him this time. He was so use to me, and my other two brothers ignoring it . It was the usual. But, not to Tony . He heard my mother screaming. He jumped up; I followed behind him. My other two brothers got up after they heard a sound that was not normal . My stepfather screaming for his life. Tony was beating him in his face; with a hammer. When he stopped; my stepfather ran out the house. He yelled that he would kill my brother. My mother yelled that my stepfather was never coming back. We knew it was a lie. Tony didn't know; in fact he didn't know a lot. When my stepfather returned. He decided to move back to California. Weeks had pasted;Tony was was waiting on my grandma to come get him. He had begun to act strange. Since my stepfather returned. He pulled a gun out on me; and l told him I was telling. He convinced me not too. I still wondered why I didn’t tell on him? Things are just, as normal as, they were going to get. My auntie was planning a crawfish boil. We were all excited to go, but hoping just no fights. We always were unlucky for fights that happened. My brothers, myself, and a cousin were standing on the porch. We were singing, laughing, and playing around. When My mother yelled out, “it’s time to go”. My oldest brother said, “we going to get a ride over there later!” it was still early. My mother and stepfather left. We all went inside to their room; that they all shared together. Everyone was laughing and joking around. Tony pulled out the gun and pointed it at everyone . My oldest brother told him to stop playing and lets go back outside. Tony puts the gun to his head and pulled the trigger. The gun didn’t go off. He then laughed, and said,”y'all thought i was gone kill myself!” twice. My oldest brother said again, “lets go outside”. We began to leave out. The next thing you know was a loud sound went off. Tony had shot himself in the head. Blood was splashing everywhere. His eyes were rolling back in his head; while he shaking. My oldest brother began yelling, screaming, jumping, punching, and kicking the door. The ambulance were called. He was taken to Baton Rouge General Hospital. He was later on a breathing machine and pronounced brain dead. I cried a lot during this time. All i could remember is the song we sung together; before it happened and the kindness of him being in my presence. I made it to the hospital for the third time to say my goodbyes. They were taking him off life support. I walked in and I look at my brother, and I sung that song,”Don't leave me”, by the Backstreet Boys. It had just came out. I kept singing it and crying. Moments later a tear from my brother face had fallen down his left cheek. It was the last time I saw him. My second big brother. The summer had past. My mother had landed herself back in prison. Back to california for us. This time it was a school year. My father was waiting to see me and my younger brother. Our father gave us an allowance every Wednesday. For me just being with my dad we had a good life for a moment. However; my father was back on drugs and disappeared many times. We ultimately had stopped going to school. We started hanging out with friends, and doing drugs, and drinking liquor. My closest brother and myself. We noticed our father didn't come home for the two weeks at a time. We then split up and we went our separate ways. Soon I didn't even know where he was, and neither did he know where I was. It didn’t matter at the time. We both had no where to go and had to find our own way in this world.
By Raain6 years ago in Families
Lost and Found
Marcie put on her headphones and turned the music up. Tonight she didn’t want to think about anything, or to hear the regular, everyday noises her family would be making. Aunt Emma was arriving tomorrow from some foreign port, and Marcie knew she would not feel like listening to exotic stories of a journalism career, not now, when her own life felt like such a mess.
By Roberta Carly Redford6 years ago in Families
"Growing up in Paradise"
Growing up in Samoa, was a simple, beautiful yet poor life. Go to church every Sunday then followed by bible study sessions which is, I highly doubt you can get out of as it is compulsory within the church as it is to culture. I always had two mates that would pick me up from my house and we'd go together, and I'd never take my siblings because they would always be too much trouble which I regret now because I was harsh on them, not all the time but sometimes. They were little kids, they were too much to handle for me aha. Go to school and repeat, do the work as well as do the teachers lunch chores every time the lunch bell rings. Afterwards we clean up, wash the dishes after school. But it always depends on who the teachers pick, which was sadly always me and my friends. Our principal had a habit of picking on me and my mates and always unavoidable. On our way home after school, its a task to drop of our teachers school work as they stay behind school. We get home, do our chores and repeat the whole cycle but fun was never a problem. That's why our childhood was fun and added with a little bitterness. And after that I would walk to our uncle's shop and come back with groceries and leaving him with a big tap hehe,but it was OK because he was our family.
By Hope Oldehaver Tuia6 years ago in Families
I Would Rather Be Ruined Than Change: My confession
“We would rather be ruined than changed We would rather die in our dread Than climb the cross of the moment And let our illusions die.” -W H AUDEN
By Marwah6 years ago in Families
Déjà Maybe
“You see, the crazy thing about real love is,” dad randomly lectured on as he always does, “even though there are many ‘definitions’ of the word; philosophers, poets, and artists of all forms have all tried to describe or portray their perspective of what love may be. And that’s the beauty of art! But love is indescribable, and that’s the beauty of love!!”
By Cameron Marquis6 years ago in Families
The kiss Goodbye.
"One night while I was sleeping, upon a feather bed, An angel came from Heaven, to tell me Mum was dead. I woke up in the morning, to see if it was true,
By Lorna M6 years ago in Families