Five Star Friday's 216th Edition Is Brought to You By Anne Sexton

This week's Five Star Friday is brought to you by a move beyond postpartum depression, letting hope win, childhood battles, the way we talk about children, waking up to the reality of racism in America, loved ones lost, understanding a father, and

Anne Sexton

:

Anne-Sexton.png
It doesn't matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was.
     — Anne Sexton

Happy Friday!

"

One Last Chance

" by

Tracy Morrison

at

Mamalode

:

Sometimes I think back to that conversation. I remember that woman. Me. Sitting on her kitchen floor with her head on her knees as she sobbed and shouted into the phone. And how she hung up on the nurse that day for being so unreasonable. Then I think about how the doctor called me an hour later and told me he just wanted me to come in so he could give me a hug and buy me a coffee. The doctor who told me three months earlier I had a one in a million chance of having more children and any pregnancy would almost certainly end in another loss. The doctor who finally took hope out of my heart and I started to heal.

"

Oh Picture Day, Oh Picture Day…

" from

Mom-101

:

"...If you remember one thing in life it's that your good feelings are yours to keep, and you don't let people take them away."
She seemed to absorb this for a moment. And then she looked up at me, with a new twinkle in her eye.
"And the second most important thing to remember in life?" she said, suddenly bursting out with the biggest toothless 7 year-old smile.
"What?" I asked.
"Never listen to anything Mitt Romney says!" And she threw back her head and laughed.
I love her so much.

"

Eleven

" by

Roxane Gay

at

The Rumpus

:

We don’t know how to talk about children anymore. We get so wrapped up in these shallow narratives about children being preternaturally advanced, about little girls wearing make up and dressing provocatively and seducing the camera, about little girls maturing faster, developing sooner. We forget. They are children, babies really, if we would allow them to be.

"

Time Passes

" from

Dear Vivian

:

So long as I can still feel your tiny feet inside me, under my heart kicking away, you have never really left.

"

Racism, Homophobia, and How I Lost My Dad Last Week

" by

Ashley F. Miller

at

Free Thought Blogs

:

I'm sorry to be doing this over the phone, your father has forbidden me from seeing you in person. I'm sorry, he just cannot support your lifestyle anymore, he will not be speaking to you again, he asked me to tell you.
That was my stepmother, the day after Thanksgiving, the day after she discovered I was dating someone. Someone who was not white. Someone who was black. Someone who was sitting in the next room and knew what the phone call was going to be about before it even started.

"

Creatures of Habit

" from

Michigan Left

:

At 11, I returned to live with my father, a man I barely knew, and his new wife. I didn’t understand him or his rituals. I didn’t know about the things that had happened to him or what he had seen. I couldn’t possibly comprehend the significance of his morning routine, the structure he imposed on his life. I wouldn’t realize [who] my father was and why until I heard his stories years later and then experienced firsthand some of the chaos and loss that come with adulthood, including his death six years ago.

"

Dancing

" by

Heather

at

A Deeper Family

:

I could feel grief and tension, pain in the room. I got up and went to her, stood next to her for a moment while she ignored me, stirring or cutting something. I went to bury my head in her chest, from the side and I put my arms in a circle around her waist and she was stiff. She didn’t move and I let go. She felt like a stone, cold and hard and tight.
I tried not to cry but all I wanted was to be held while I cried. I wanted to ask so many questions.

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