humanity
Humanity begins at home.
Get Out Now!!!
Sometimes we really hide from our gifts due to emotional and physical trauma. I want to start by saying that I realize that I have had trauma from the womb. No my mom was not battered but my father died a month before I was born. I can only imagine the pain that she felt the rest of her pregnancy. Lately, I have been in search of answers regarding my father that I do not have the questions for. I do not know exactly what I want to ask. However, I said weeks ago I would dedicate this October 2020 to writing about my on and off 6 years experience of mental and physical abuse. Well, what does that have to do with my father you ask, trauma in the womb, and domestic violence. I really and truly do not know. I am sure there is a connection.
By Mecca C Eaves-Glass5 years ago in Families
Leftovers of a day...
White and blue are the colours of a home I am yet to completely discover. My grandparents migrated from there in the 60s. My mind finds bliss each time they sit and reminisce on memories from the past, temporarily transporting me away with them to the land they really call home.
By Stephanie Anna5 years ago in Families
Why We Matter
My grandmother used to tell me growing up whenever the question of race and self-identity arose, baby, we are all sooners. I would look at her puzzled and ask, "what's a sooner, Grammy?" and she would reply "we're sooner to be one thing or another." I never knew the importance of that statement until I got older. Hello, my name is Stephanie Morton, and I am a heterosexual multi-racial/cultural woman living in America. Now, what do I check on the demographic boxes? Honestly, it depends on what form it is. However, mostly I choose Black.
By Stephanie Morton5 years ago in Families
Time
Things change. Time goes on and yet we have, only, right now. This present, current moment in time. Slowly but surely and yet as quick as the sands pass through the hour glass, time passes. For each of us we have a certain kind of security. We have a type of fervent wish or tamed desire pushing us through each day. We find ourselves stuck in time or as fast as the river rushes, down stream, we wonder how we got there. My fondest joy as a child was going to my grandmother's home. Her name is Maw. Maw and Pop. The adults would have coctails and either BBQ next to the pool or a nice roast would be sending aroma arrows throughout the house. I would play with my cousins. We would swim in the pool, swing on the tire swing or adventure in the woods behind the house. I can smell all the smells and feel the coolness of the air conditioning on hot summer days. My memories. When I close my eyes I can smell the eggs and scrapple frying in the morning with the sound of the Bunn dripping the coffee. Pop left us many many moons ago to Lynphonma. Maw, now nearly 89 currently resides in an assisted living home for those with Damentia. Things change. Time goes on and yet we have, only, right now. My right now is sitting at my kitchen table, listening to ABC songs on youtube as my toddler runs around and I write this piece for you. My right now is fairly comfortable. 100 degrees outside, my window AC unit is keeping it bearable in my home. On this Ranch on the border of Mexico that I call home. My almost 19 year old son is in his new bedroom, my old room, now his. He is gaming online. My right now also consists of my two other children, 6 year old son and 10 year old daughter, from my ex husband, sitting in their grandmother's small stuffy appartment in the city probably staring at their phones on Tik Tok, playing Mindcraft or whatever other such mindcontrolled distractuions eat up thier time. Parental alienation preceeding my divorce has segwayed to a damaged relationship with my 2 middle children. This has brought me much heartache. Now, my toddler is biting my nipple as he nurses and I type these words. I am frustrated and angry now. All I want to do is get these words out of my mind and onto this screen. Yes, I can ween him off at any moment which will have its own slew of conflict resolution scenarios. Single mother of 4, never easy, always hard. I can always close my eyes and think of the days when I was a child running around in the grass at Maw's house. Maw's house was sold some years ago, however still stands on the same street in the same town on the same coast, East. I now live on the West coast. Over 3,000 miles away from where I grew up. My right now, a few weeks ago, took myself and my toddler back home. I have missed it so. Craving some familiarity, comfort and security from the past which has slipped by as quickly as ice melts. I saw Maw, in her new home. She did not know who I was. Her question every few minutes was the same. "I live here?" My aunt and I would answer her the same. "Yes, you live here." Then she would ask, "where is my husband?" We would answer, "He is in heaven." Her next question, "Well, how long has he been there?" Our answer, about 20 years now. Then, she would ask, "I live here?" And our answer would be, "yes, you live here." And on and on we went. Same questions with the same answers. Things change. Time goes on and yet we have, only, right now. It had been three years since I saw Maw last. She was is a gradula cognitive decline, living in her new condo, still knowing who I was and where she was. On this recent visit, I drove by Maw and Pop's old house. The new owner was mowing the grass. I almost pulled into the drive way, however, chose to keep driving past. I could see Maw doing cartwheels in the front yard as she did whenever we would leave. She was always full of energy. She kept the house sparkling clean. The fresh towels in the linen closet folded and stacked neatly was always one of my favorite things to admire. Maw will always be my most favorite person. Maw will always be the woman and grandmother I aspire to be. Even though she does not remember me now and will depart us one day in the near future, I can always close my eyes and smell her roast in the oven. I can always close my eyes and feel her standing next to me as she taught me how to make her famouse mashed potatoes. Tears roll down my cheecks in this now moment because things change. From childhood to adulthood, things change. That of which we could physically be in the precence of and experience does not always last forever. In fact, most things do not last forever. Driving by Maw and Pop's which is no longer Maw and Pop's reminds me of how slowely yet quickly time goes by. Being in those moments of Joy and then years later looking back, we realize that our confort and joy must come from within. Our security must not be bound by material things in time and space. We will always have our memories to look back on. Clinging to the now moments of the past for comfort will only lead us to the abrupt stop sign of this current moment. Looking back on what was and now is currently not. This time that we seek, we will always have. Our memories. Our workings in this precent moment. Everytime I make Maw's mashed potatoes I bring the past to the present moment. When I smell bounce dryer sheets I am immediately standing at the linen closet admiring Maw's maternal handywork. When my children have children and they come for dinner, I will be Maw. I will be the Maw to them that Maw is and always will be for me. The all encompasing joy of my childhood that I can still have in adulthood. Even though I cannot fully have those moments back, I can recreate them. I can close my eyes and relive them. Things change. Time goes on and yet we have, only, this moment. Enjoy it. With love: Erin
By Erin Warfield5 years ago in Families
CHAMELEON
There are two sides of the coin: heads and tails, two sides of the moon: bright and dark, two sides of life: ‘in’ and ‘out.' Under the law of physics, these parts are never to meet. Any contact may result in the universal system failure and cause a massive paradigm shift: there would be no more black and white, right or wrong, true or false.
By Victoria May5 years ago in Families
Parental Alienation
Motherhood wasn't suppose to be like this. Who would have thought I would have to fight for my right to be your parent? I carried you for 9 months. I gave birth to you. I have a scar on my belly from the incision where you were pulled out of my body. I was there when you breathed your first breath. I held you in my arms for the first time, crying as I listened to you cry. I was already so proud to be your mom, and I was so excited to start this new chapter of my life with you! Little did I know, I would be fighting for the right to be your parent.
By Jennifer Paulette Speaks5 years ago in Families
Dolly Always!
For years I knew I wanted children. For years I was a free spirit living in the city of New York. Now, 34 and with three children I can't tell you how wild this ride has been. My husband and I met in 2014 and our lives we're crazy but together filled with adventure, joy, and love. Knowing how we both felt we moved in, sealed the deal, and started our family. We moved to the south Officially in 2017. Today is September 27, 2020, and living in Atlanta has definitely changed us. Now the question is how?
By Serai Wilson5 years ago in Families
Storytime: The Day My Nigerian Mother Caught Me Sneaking Out of the House
You see those scenes you see in Hollywood movies – those scenes were a fine boy will come and throw stone at the window of the girl he likes, then the girl herself will slide open her window, sneak out with the boy and go out for the whole night - Don’t ever try it in a Nigerian household!
By Jide Okonjo5 years ago in Families
Fire Fried Corn
Growing up in the late 80's early 90's was one of the best past time. Family was something to be proud of. Grandma's and Grandpa's held the family together. If there was ever a dispute, we all just came together and talked it out. Holidays were spent together with your family. We all got together and put our differences away. Food has always been a deal breaker in my family. Everyone played their role on a special holiday, or even an occasion. The past time dish that was forgotten was fried corn, every Thanksgiving. My grandma would host the occasion and someone would have to be at her house either spending the night, or early to start cooking the food. Whoever would cook, did not have the responsibilities of cleaning the dishes up afterwards. That was the worst part of Thanksgiving, was the cleaning up. Fried corn always got cooked with our meal. I honestly don't know if it was something my grandma just chose, or if it actually was passed down through generations. I can remember the way it smelt and the way it always hit the spot when I would put it on some of my mash potatoes. How I can hear the people in the back ground talking about either the football game that might have been on, or the arguing over something that might have been started over a debate. How my grandma's house was so little, but could fit so many people in it. How every time we would say grace before we ate dinner. That corn was never forgotten. My grandma had to make sure we had enough of the corn to last a year, it sure felt like. She would get her big skillet out, some butter, some salt and pepper, and melt them together. She would then pour the corn in the skillet and fry it up. It was so delicious and tasted so good. For people who don't like corn or vegetables, would be amazed and think differently.
By Teresa Hurley5 years ago in Families
Working Mom vs. Stay-at-Home Mom
I wasn't planning on this. Really any of this. But let's just say 2020 has been a pit of despair that truly keeps getting worse with a dimming light at the end of an excruciatingly long tunnel. So here I am caught in a cross-fire of what in the world am I really meant to be: career-focused mom or a permanently at home mom.
By Ashleigh Corbin5 years ago in Families
