Never Regretted

Fiction By Damaris Ann // 11/16/2015

I pulled into the drive and found a spot to park my car. I took the key out of the ignition and put it in my purse. I looked at my hands, palms up. They were shaking and sweating like crazy. I clenched them into fists to steady them and gritted my teeth.
"You can do this," I whispered to myself. "It'll be better this way."

My Boy

An Essay By Taylor // 10/3/2008

I've always wanted to have a lot of kids. My mom courageously bore six of us, eight if you count the two that miscarried. I always try to remember them, too. Growing up with so many of us was like having my own little group of friends. That's not to say we didn't have real friends over. Hardly. But we grew up so emotionally close to each other that the need for outside friends was dampened.

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