“There’s been an accident.”
Georgia raced to the hospital. Xavier. Images of his childhood followed her through the sterile hallways.
Yesterday, they were lifting the couch out of the trailer, excited about the move. Today, he was in the hands of the surgeons he aspired to be. One day, he wanted to save lives.
“Please, save my only son.”
“It’s an honor. Xavier saved me.”
Georgia placed the stethoscope against the man’s chest and listened to the heartbeat she heard via ultrasound 17 years ago. Cameras flashed. Tears wet her cheeks.
“You hear that, Xavier? You saved a life.”
When I was a little girl, my idea of “making it,” of reaching success, was a full tank of gas. Our car was always barely above ‘E.’ On the few occasions I was driven around by someone “rich,” maybe the parent of a school friend or one of the staff members of the battered women’s shelter we stayed in once, I’d eye their fuel gauge.
Regardless, I associated wealth with the ability to fill your car whenever you wanted. I compared these markers to the ones in my life and noted the stark contrast. No one explained them to me…
Manuela could see dead people.
This probably wouldn’t be so much of a problem if she could tell the live ones from the dead. And this probably wouldn’t be so much of a problem if the dead weren’t so thoroughly in denial of their current status.
Manuela lived in a small Mexican town, before the country had been forced to redraw its borders. Initially, her mother, Alma, thought Manuela had a vivid imagination and a lot of imaginary friends. …
One of the most dangerous things we can think of as parents is, “That could never happen to me.” This comes from a place of fear and instills a sense of complacency. If we’re hypervigilant, nothing bad can happen to our children, right?
Except no one is perfect. At some point, something will happen that requires urgent attention. If you have more than one child, it’s literally impossible to watch both children 24/7 because they will inevitably rush off to two different areas.
Instead, it’s best to think, “That might happen to me. …
***May contain slight spoilers.
In The Broken, J. J. Hernandez writes a captivating crime thriller that explores grief, loss, consequences, greed, and power.
Julian Serrano led a life of crime to provide for his family. A lifestyle that would catch up to him the day a close friend betrayed him. After spending a long stretch in prison, he’s out trying to keep himself in line and doing right by his son, his late wife, and his P. O., Diana Rivera.
As he attempts to find a new normal, adjusting to a clean lifestyle proves to be very difficult. His sister-in-law…
Ask any woman what she’s been taught about staying safe and she’ll likely list the following:
Ask any parent (especially fathers) why they’re teaching this list to their daughters and it’s mainly because of other men.
Women can’t complain that all men…
In another lifetime, I had a husband.
A husband who had his demons. And I had mine.
He taught me so much. We succeeded in so much. And we failed at so much more.
I think we were too young. I think we were too damaged. I think that we were two broken people trying to fill in the cracks with each other. But maybe that’s just me finding ways to blame myself for what happened. We had an average marriage full of ups and downs. We were both military and stressed, with no family near for support.
I was perusing Facebook the other day and stumbled upon a meme. I don’t know the exact wording, but it said something along the lines of:
The fact you worry about being a good mom means you’re a good mom!
I know the idea comes from a good place. I know it’s meant to encourage. I often worry I’m not doing a good enough job, that I’m failing. I know this is attempting to be reassuring.
But it’s complete garbage. It’s problematic. And I’ll tell you why.
That’s it. Or, at least, that should be it. …
The La Luz Trail in Albuquerque, NM was the first west coast hike that my fiancé, Tim, and I completed. It was also our first road trip as a couple. He confessed later that was when he knew I was the one.
“I knew I really liked you because I spent an entire week stuck in a car with you and still wanted to see you the next day.”
He’s a romantic, to say the least.
He’s also a meticulous planner.
Contrary to popular belief, I do plan out my trips. It’s just that the plan might be picking out…
This story falls under the microfiction category as it’s 97 words long. It has been submitted to a microfiction challenge that required a story of 100 words or less.
CW: domestic violence and pregnancy loss
His grip tightened around her neck. “You’re gonna trick me into loving you, then leave? Fuck you!”
Love, anger, violence. A cycle she couldn’t escape until violence ended the promise of life. Bright red blood stained her thighs.
She struggled for air. A memory flashed. Her, treading water, drowning. Her mother, eyes worried, fist against mouth. Her father, laughing. “She’ll either sink or…
I write a lot about trauma and healing. Empathetic to a fault. Daydreamer. Always behind on laundry. She/her