Collections
Literature
Growing Pains
When I was a little girl, my mother was beautiful.
I would climb off of the school bus at the end of the day alight with excitement at the prospects of seeing my mother and telling her about my day at school.
She would meet me at the door as she always did and pick me up into her loving arms and spin me around and around and around until my troubles disappeared and thoughts of the boy who called me names on the playground were no longer relevant because my mother loved me.
She would kiss me on the forehead and sit me on the kitchen counter as she cooked dinner for my father and I.
And she loved me.
And I loved her.
Daddy would come home with
All
80 deviations
Literature
Growing Pains
When I was a little girl, my mother was beautiful.
I would climb off of the school bus at the end of the day alight with excitement at the prospects of seeing my mother and telling her about my day at school.
She would meet me at the door as she always did and pick me up into her loving arms and spin me around and around and around until my troubles disappeared and thoughts of the boy who called me names on the playground were no longer relevant because my mother loved me.
She would kiss me on the forehead and sit me on the kitchen counter as she cooked dinner for my father and I.
And she loved me.
And I loved her.
Daddy would come home with
Featured
68 deviations
Literature
By My Own Hands
It is by his own hands
that a man creates a legend,
or becomes one.
It is by his own will
that creation be his ability,
or destruction.
It is by his own faith
that he find life outside of
life,
or inside of life.
It his by his own voice
that a nation be formed,
whether by love,
or by hate.
It is by his own ears
that music be heard,
be shared or be made.
It is by his own existence
that a man should recognize himself
as just a man,
as a listener,
as a speaker,
as a believer,
and a creator.
Creators we are. Together and one.
To Read
3 deviations
