We gave our readers a one-word writing prompt: “surprise.”
family of origin
We stood along the highway in a blizzard, trying to hitchhike. We started reciting Bible verses to pass the time.
Our family reunion in Argentina looked like something straight out of one of Jesus’ parables.
This Is Us depicts the dangers of life alone and the complications of life together.
I could stay home on Sundays when visiting my parents. But I return to the pews of my childhood church because I love the people despite our differences.
At a chemical level, it didn’t matter that we loved him. It couldn’t penetrate the shield around his sense of self-worth.
Every family has more people at the table than you can see. If we set the right number of plates, we would have to build way bigger tables.
I said something cutting and sneering, and my mother slowly put down her tea. Odd that I would remember that detail.
We owe our homeland patriotism, but not just any kind of patriotism—because just as we don't choose our parents, neither do we choose our country of origin.