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Surviving Distractions: How to identify them and how to stop them

By Felicia Clark 
I sit down to do a write-up with my deadline for completion in two days. After showering, I change into my pajama bottoms and an oversized shirt. I grab a glass of wine, chips, and my laptop. My blanket and pillow are on the sofa. My rain sounds are going. I decided that everything's in place. I plop onto my sofa and proceed to write. All of sudden, PANDEMONIUM. “Ma! Can you please bring me a towel?! I forgot to grab one!” One of my sons yelled from the bathroom.
After grabbing a towel and handing it to an awaiting hand sticking out the slit of the bathroom door, I sat back down upon the sofa and proceeded to write. 
Ring! Ring! Unh unh, not answering. The phone stops ringing. Ring! Ring! Same number. Not answering. Then it rings AGAIN! Same number, belonging to my bestie. She’s called 3 times in a row. She never does that. Something must be wrong. I decided to call her back and try to make it short; no more than 10 minutes, tops

Thirty minutes later, she’s just get…

A Mother's Day Poem for our favorite girl

Her Truth 
By: AstridRaww 

A mother’s love 
we’ve heard that poem
A mother’s touch 
we could go on and on
But our mother’s pain 
there is no song
As a ringing in the ears 
of time gone
Throughout her years
Her silent dreams
and hidden tears
has passed through us
Through Intelligent design 
to clear the dust 
of generational hurt and mistrust 
The silence speaks but it’s a must
If we don’t speak to that 
we don’t speak of her love
The love she exudes outside of her pain
or the one that she hides because of her shame 
The promises she kept despite the obstacles 
The ones that she didn’t because of the load
Which ever way we’ve grown to know 
our mother’s to this day
It means that much more her love 
we found through her pain. 


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