Family Life Short Story Contest

Congratulations to our Winners!

TEEN WINNER

Upgraded
By Katy Wheeler

Itd been quite a while since Id upgraded. A long overdue enhancement, Im guessing at least five years in the making. Hardly anyone is immune to being enamored by the hypnotic spell that a brand-new cell phone seems to cast. I was no different.

When I plucked the shiny new phone out of its box, I could hardly contain myself. All the latest and greatest technology for me to catch up on, right here in this metal and plastic box. More gadgets, more capacity, more apps, and unfortunately, more money coming out of my checking account. It was OK though. My old phone was out of date, and despite my infatuation with it (and the hard case that saved it from breaking countless times), it was toast.

Yet, as I transferred over all of its data and the other cool functions I associated with my device, I couldnt help but notice some of the old phone numbers sequentially transitioning into the new phone. Most of them were friends, siblings, or business contacts. However, the last one stood out conspicuously: MOM CELL.

It made my blood turn to ice. Yes, she had a home phone, but unlike others her age, she hardly used it anymore. Just to see that number again tore my soul in half. It made me want to laugh and cry at the same time, as I remembered every little detail about her. You see, she had died nearly five years ago. Pancreatic cancer literally sucked the life out of her; the once vibrant and hauntingly beautiful baby blue eyes, so blue youd swear that you could see down into her very soul, became hollow and frail. To witness what that disease had done to her earthly shell, and to know that she now had a perfect body, a heavenly body that is ignorant of pain, suffering, and tearsmy mom had upgraded.

I never bothered to turn off her cellular service after shed passed away. I continued to faithfully pay the bill month after month, even though I knew the phone would never be used again. Many have asked me why, and if youve ever lost a parent, then you know why. Itsits because

Well, sometimes you just need to hear a friendly voice, one bathed in unconditional love. Mamas voice. When its gone, its gone forever from this life at least in person.

Whenever I call her phone and hear that sweet, sweet voice repeat something as simple as her outgoing message, it gives me peace when I need it the most. It makes me long to be reunited with her one day soon, once my time here on earth is done. And on that day, when I am upgraded, our relationship will be made whole again. I will know no greater joy than to be with my family, my heavenly family.

So, for now, Ill smile, shed a tear, and then dial the first number on my brand-new cell phone: MOM CELL.

ADULT WINNER

Swinging Through Life
By Anna Skudarnova

My grandfather did not live long enough to know that his wife could build a sturdier swing than he could. It seemed as if every summer when I visited my family in Ukraine, my grandfather spent half his time reconstructing the swing that he built for his grandchildren. He would wrap old rags and attach metal wires to various parts of the swing. But somehow, these solutions never lasted more than a few days before they, too, gave out.

The wooden seat of the swing always cracked, no matter how many times it was replaced, and the rusty iron bars that held up the whole contraption left blue-flaked paint on my blistered hands. The swish of air that the swing provided felt better than any sort of air conditioning on those hot summer days. The swing creaked, our dog Jack barked, the sprinkler noisily watered the plants, and my cousins yelled at me every time I got on that swing.

I ate the freshest kind of cherries, strawberries, snap peas, cucumbers, sand, and blood all while swinging on grandfathers swing. The vegetation came from my grandparents surrounding garden, the blood from being kicked off the swing by my cousins, and the sand from falling in the nearby sandbox.

My grandmother flew to America to visit us the summer that my family bought our first house, and consequently, our backyard. Her main goal for the summer was to make my grandfather turn in his grave by
planting a garden and building a swing that were more successful than his had ever been.

The swing she built was upheld by two sturdy trees that would not rust. She chose plastic ropes from the hardware store that would not blister hands. Traumatized by the many times my grandfathers contraption had broken while I was mid-swing, I asked my grandmother if her swing would ever break.

Never in a lifetime, she stated proudly in Ukrainian.

All throughout my preteen years, I ran to grandmothers swing when I was upset. With tears streaming down my face, I rebelliously flung off the jacket my mother always forced me to wear. I relished the bite of the air against my skin that the swing provided. The swing creaked, the birds chirped, the squirrels scuttled, and the fallen leaves crinkled in the wind, as I swung myself into dizziness. I liked to see the world that did not make sense swirl around me. Like a mother rocking her child, grandmothers swing rocked me until I was calm, and my tears dried.

A year after my grandmother died, my family sold that house with the swing still sturdily hung in the backyard. Grandmother was right, her swing could outlast a lifetime, or, at least, her lifetime. And I am sure the first thing she did when she was laid to rest beside my grandfather was tell him all about it.

Thank You to All Who Shared Short Stories With Us!
We received almost 40 thoughtful, well written submissions that covered a variety of topics, and we enjoyed reading each one. With only 500 words to tell a story with a beginning, middle, and end, sentences had to be carefully constructed to be impactful and convey meaning, with no room for verbosity. We truly enjoyed visiting the succinct worlds you created, which inspired us to think and feel a wide array of emotions.