refugee

Memoir· — I sat my father down in the kitchen so I could interview him about his father. His father had died 5 years prior and though the wounds had healed you...

Memoir· — My grandfather wore a ring on his left hand. Him and my grandmother had gotten it in Jamaica many years ago. On it was a red cardinal with multi-colored triangle...

Memoir· — At 8:30 pm I—still wet from my post-swimming practice shower– sat down on my soft blue couch with a plate of warm red pasta in my lap to watch the...

Memoir· — It was all about the Frosty Malt. Frozen solid in a paper cup with a thick wooden spoon “like a stick,” my dad said, it took a while to make...

Memoir· — Baseball Family Tornadoes tore through the Midwest in the early hours of April 1, 2023. Following the reports on my Dad’s iphone, the four of us pulled on shoes and...

Memoir· — Back in China, my Mom, had a childhood greater than that of her peers. While under Confucian cultural influence, most parents were busily pushing their kids and molding them to...

Memoir· — Within a home, the few inhabitants inside go about daily activities, one of which is me. Some of the inhabitants are absent for money-making work at buildings miles away. Unspoken...

Memoir· — Six light bulbs enriched with white light shine upon its surroundings. The wooden floor is glistening from the light shining down. Leather from the couch has highlights run along it...

Memoir· — India is a very unpredictable place where unexpected things can happen. They don’t have the best road safety and have quite a lot of accidents. Sadly, that’s how my moms’...