Stories related to parenting

You scream and kick your tiny, filthy feet. “I love you,” I whisper as I lay you down on concrete steps. You will drink warm milk tonight.

He arrived to pick them up from the hospital. Her room was empty. “She said she’s sorry,” the nurse said as she handed him the baby.

Children’s voices, a sound of joy that pierced her soul like an icy knife. Every screech and giggle a reminder of one rainy night, long ago.

And by the way, have a nice day, Mother dear. Sorry to hear that Dad died. He was sixty three, but curiously, looked nothing like me.

She tucks her son in, kisses him goodnight. Outside the car, the truckstop rumbles with idling engines. Sighing, she puts on her stilettos.

He gives out candy from a plastic pumpkin by a laptop. The kids don’t see his eye twitch while he hits enter, but supermom does.