humanity
For better or for worse, relationships reveal the core of the human condition.
Memories
Playing in the Hills Between 7 and 12, we went around as a group of 6 or 8 boys with 10 or 12 dogs. Spent our time exploring up the hills after school and for each the day at the weekend. The Pentland Hills are now a park 30 miles long by 20 miles wide. Looking South from Edinburgh.
By Eric Sutherland6 years ago in Humans
Piensa en mi
Gulfport, November 2006 Lyn was not herself that morning. She had forgotten to bring Mike jam with his toast, and never came back to refill his cup with fresh coffee after he had finished his breakfast. The hair cutter had visited Al's Diner every day of the week for time immemorial, and Lyn had been waiting on him for a full five years after old Miss Lucille had decided to retire in South Carolina where her daughter lived. Her substitute had had ample time to learn his routine. First, the coffee, which he would sip while waiting for the order of white toast with jam; strawberry most of the time, but raspberry was fine, too. The choice was hers. Then after he had eaten would come the second cup of coffee that he drank slowly while doing some serious reading of the sports section of whatever newspaper was left there.
By Jean Lagacé6 years ago in Humans
Umbrellas
I've never seen the big deal in a little rain. Some people run for cover as if acid were pouring down from the skies. I must say, though, that one of most personally moving experiences is when a stranger has offered me to share their umbrella. I actually had someone stop and give me an umbrella once, as they stopped at a red light and I was near the corner waiting for a bus. I was reflecting on that situation and it made me think how poignant the idea of sharing an umbrella is to our current state in our country.
By christopher paige6 years ago in Humans
The Diaspora in Me
In this day and age we are consumed by how we identify, are you black or white … where were you from? I sat thinking back and forth about how to put this all into words and realized how much there actually is to write. On a census form, I identify as an African American. But what does that really mean? I know I have descendants going back many, many generations that originated from Africa, but I don't have any customs from that continent that were passed down or any traditions that I celebrate. (Well, Kwanzaa, was the closest. But that is still an African-American based celebration). But does that change who I am - a black woman. As a U.S. citizen, we are forced to identify in one box or another, yet many of us can check multiple boxes. Why do we put ourselves in a box? I don't know if I have the answer to that or ever will but one thing I do know:
By Stephanie S Young6 years ago in Humans
Long Road Home
It was the hottest part of the day, the heat lingering in the humid air under the Louisiana sun and boiling anything that dared to stand out under it. The heat was so intense that Aveline couldn’t find any relief sitting under the trees in the shade, sweat still building up on her skin while she downed a bottle of water. She had a plan, or at least part of a plan really, she just had to make it to Shreveport; Michael would be there waiting for her and then they could go wherever they wanted without her Papa’s wrath lingering over them anymore. Getting there was the crux of the problem, between not having a car and policemen at every bus station looking for her since last night, Shreveport might as well have been another planet away. It left her with only one choice, and that was trying to get a ride from someone out here on one of the small dirt roads; one of the only places she could hide where the police haven’t ventured yet.
By Kayla Provence6 years ago in Humans
An Open letter to Breonna Taylor
Hey Bre, Girl!!! Let me tell you…well, you probably already know since I am guessing you can see everything from up there. But for real, can you believe this s*#t? You’re lying in your own bed, minding your business, trying to sleep!!!…and these motherf*#%!s come in YOUR house and…smh. It just doesn’t make any sense…
By Simone Golden6 years ago in Humans
My Heart Is As Broken As the Sky
It is amazing to discover, I have forgotten the names of some women I deeply loved, long ago in my 20's, in my 30's. Their names no longer matter. The fact I loved them, was rejected by them, and moved on: Those are the events and memories which matter. Those are the lessons which have always mattered. Only about 1% were rejected by me. I attempt with all my heart to love the people who cross my path, and be generous with women who obviously love me, even when I cannot return their love.
By Roscoe Forthright6 years ago in Humans
The salesman, the buyer and you
Qualifying the client is the first step to any selling procedure. Who are you going to sell your product to? Is there anybody interested in that brand new toothpaste? Does he/she even have any teeth left? You get where this is going, but lots of us don't even think it all through before approaching a potential buyer. Let's put it this way, if I'm trying to date a girl, and the first thing I do when approaching her is asking for her number, then I might be in for a bitter surprise. Why? Because perhaps that girl is not even a woman, or maybe she's already married.
By Unidentified Writer6 years ago in Humans
August in Los Angeles, 2019. Third Place in Inhale, Exhale Challenge.
We looked ridiculous as four grown adults flailing around the park trying to generate enough wind to blow up the red nylon inflatable couch. After several attempts and running starts stunted by, at that point, delirious laughter, we settled for a half-inflated couch that could only accommodate one person at a time, pretending like the backs of our legs didn’t ever-so-slightly skim the dirt beneath the thin nylon of the couch.
By Ashna Madni6 years ago in Humans
Looking Forward
A lot of things changed in my life starting in December of 2019. I stepped out of my comfort zone in a big way. I left a comfortable apartment, my belongings went into storage save for a few essentials and wants that I had space for. I left my 2 cats that I couldn’t bring with me, but plan at some point to be reunited with them. I moved back into my parents’ home. Before all this, I was seen as the one that did it right. But things were falling apart in a span of maybe 3-5 years. It’s hard to say when it really started.
By Angelica Moreno6 years ago in Humans
