Stories related to parenting


Mom drove me to school day after day, her eyes red and swollen. Today, I saw red lips instead of red eyes, and a smile. A harbinger of hope!

The Sins of the Father

Alcohol bottles on the floor. Father mumbles incoherently. I storm out crying. The liquor store is close. It tastes good, warm with hope.

Left Behind

Dad’s gone again. In a rage, Mom tears up his photo. But then we try to put the pieces back together, afraid that he might never come back.

Please Leave

My eyes met his as he dug the blade in. I saw sorrow; he saw fear. His buddy yelled, “Let’s go.” I prayed these burglars left my child alone.


Doorbell. It’s them. I’m sure. Come to deliver the news. Tuesday. Closed-casket. Wear black. When I see the postman I laugh so hard I cry.

Brazilian VW Beetle

My mom and I sing that song, “Something in the Way She Moves,” in broken English. She teaches me about The Beatles: “Besouro like our car.”