Angel Mother
by Maria E., Grand Rapids, MI
“All that I am or ever hope to be, I owe to my angel mother.” Those magical words were spoken by none other than Abraham Lincoln, a poet, a president and a loving son.
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Branded
by Randall L., Abilene, KS
I put on my gloves and leave the toasty house, cringing as I feel the bitter Kansas wind. It sure felt nice inside, but it’s time to do the day’s work.
I walk down to the rusty barn where Steve is already preparing for the day.
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Dancing Genes
by Alyssa C., Cohasset, MA
My favorite movie of all time isn’t a Hollywood classic produced by a famous director, starring actors who are cultural icons. In fact, it was made by someone who few except my mom remember, and the “stars” are actually her dance students.
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Forever Young
by Shannon O., Auburn, NY
Have you ever come across a video or picture of when you were little? Maybe you found photos of Easter egg hunts, birthdays with the extended family, or even that really embarrassing one of you in the bathtub, taking you back to when you didn’t have a care in ...
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Green Popsicles
by Rebecca T., Everson, WA
I woke up hungry with
a nurse smiling at me. Two of her teeth were yellow.
“Do you like popsicles?” she
asked, and I nodded. Her blue scrubs rustled as she waddled across the
room. “Here you go, sweetie.
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In Mexico
by Brenda C., Amarillo, TX
Tears rolled down my cheeks as the blue Ford
truck passed my mother. I wouldn’t see her again for two whole months. It was summer
vacation and I was headed to Chihuahua, Mexico. Since the age of six I had been spending my summers
in Mexico.
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Ja, Vi Elsker Dette Landet
by Erin J., Monneota, MN
I can remember it like yesterday. My heart was pounding and my stomach was doing flips. I really wanted to tell my mom to turn around, but I knew it was too late. We had already driven six hours and were entering the gate.
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Just a Machine
by Katelyn S., Cameron, WI
I press the bar on the old electric typewriter to advance the line. In a frenzy of ideas, I type like mad, not pausing to think. The words flow out of my fingers as they dash away at the keys, the letters appearing on the paper in all the haste I am typing with.
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Leap of Faith
by Brittany R., Phoenix, AZ
I’ll always remember the day I put on my first pair of ballet shoes, slipped into my pink tights and leotard, slicked my hair back into a tight bun, and made my way to the dance studio.
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Moments of the Past
by Brianna B., Phoenix, AZ
I lie on my floor, scissors and glue close by. Hundreds of pictures are scattered around me, each telling its own story. Some pictures are of me, but most are of my grandparents or siblings.
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Mothers & Daughters
by Kaytlin M., Olathe, KS
My mother folds
herself into the chair
next to the hospital bed
like a
child curls around a scraped knee
frail and
heartbroken
Broken.
Years ago she soothed me from this
position.
I’d fallen fast and hard onto brutal
cement
Humpty Dumpty.
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Prom
by Lisa M., Sunny Isles Beach, FL
I was in my TV production class one day when my classmates started talking about the main activity of senior year: prom.
“I really want to go with someone, but I hope no one ugly asks me.
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The Boyfriend
by Lucas D., Hull, MA
My 54-year-old mother and her new boyfriend, a straight-laced, successful wine importer from the next town over, have - in only six months of seeing each other - contributed to the overturning of my domestic balance.
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The Heart Breaker
by Nicole, Shreveport, LA
I will never forget the night my mom left. She walked out and left me standing in the door crying, “Come back.” The next morning, tears filled my eyes as I walked from room to room calling for her.
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The Movies
by Keith S., Highland, UT
Asking “Have you seen any movies lately?” is a common conversation starter. Having the edge and seeing a movie before anyone else drives us to see even more movies.
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Warm Sand & Pink Salsa
by Sara S., Brainerd, MN
“I’m thinking a combination of Warm Sand and Pink Salsa, with just a dash of Curled Ebony.”
“No way. The Pink Salsa is way too ... pink.” I’m sitting on a futon going over make-up combinations with my cousin.
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Who Was Abraham Lincoln?
by Hannah, VT
I was a freshman the first time I saw my mom drunk. On that night, she emerged from a strange black car and stumbled into the house. I sat at the kitchen table with piles of books and a laptop.
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Yearbook
by Laura C., Cohasset, MA
I stare at the paper with the instructions: “Write your name, likes, memories, and leaving thoughts.” I’m allowed just 875 characters to express the last four years of my life.
Millions of seniors have done this before me. They managed.
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