A sentimental tale about the joys of grandparent duties.
I was seven years old when my mother nearly burned down our house. My brother, sister and I were watching TV in the den while Mom was getting dinner ready. She poured oil into a heavy cast iron pan and set the pan on an open flame to heat.
This touching, thought-provoking article describes the evolution of a Mother from a teen mum to a mum of teens and how her desperate cry for freedom was extinguished by the love of her children.
There was water rising in the basement. Cold, dark, murky, slimy, water. Being a woman alone, a single mother, without a man, she had no idea what to do about it.
Let’s work together to keep one another on the path that leads to a happy ending!
A short and sweet story about the meaningful things we allow our children to steal from us.
Less than one week left!
Ok so I’m going to put myself out there, risk rejection, disappointment and a blank comment box staring back at me like the canvas of a painter who has lost his muse, and say hello from the other side of this medium.