Eat, Darling, Eat 

(by Angela Lambru) My Costa Rican mother came to the United States with my Greek father, two toddlers, and one child in diapers. Times...

(by Eleni Pisano) Food has always been an instrument of dialogue and comparison in my home. My mother came from Padua, where her father...

(by Sophy Mesa Bejarano) Another day of sports training after school. From Monday to Friday, my schedules are set by my teachers and...

(by Layce Lynne Kieu) A drunk driver can change the trajectory of your life in an instant. I was slammed against the interior of the car,...

(by JP Sebastian) Mother is crying. This upsets me, but it doesn’t make me any more likely to eat the brownish gray slab quivering on my...

(by Rachael Leigh) I had a love/hate relationship with my mother from the day I was born to the day she died. She was 22 years old when I...

(by Bex O'Brian) My first year living away from home was a bit calamitous. I had moved to New York City to become an actress, only to...

(by Audrey Molloy) This is what you’re made of, my mother says; green beans, next to Friday night’s supper, like poplars edging wheat,...

(by Latonya Black Gilliard) “A little salt brings out the sugar.” That was one of my mom’s favorite sayings, reflecting her lifelong love...

(by Mary Jones) Dowries are outdated, and hope chests are passé, something I wouldn’t have anyway since I’m never getting married. I’m...

(by Robin Winzenread Fritz) Only a handful of memories survive my earliest childhood days in 1960s Indiana: a pink farmhouse hidden among...

(by Hannah Artman) “Can y’all not serve yourselves without spilling something on the damn counter?” The wife of a hungry soldier, the...

(by Toby Poser) A full belly is like a lullaby. It soothes. In late summer, Lulu and I left home in upstate New York for JFK Airport. It...

(by Kristal Damron) My mother is the eldest of six children—all girls—who grew up in Chicago. Each of the six had a different role and...

(by Barbara Ballinger) When I was a child, my mother regularly shooed me out of the kitchen in our suburban New York home. She was the...

(by Andrea Cherkerzian Dennigan) Legend has it in our family that the first time my mom, Mary Ellen, went to meet her future...

(by Thylias Moss) A broth of dirty dishwater, from cooking cubes of beef, the pot liquor drenching bulbs of garlic. There aren’t enough...

(by Jillian Van Hefty) In the mid-1960s, my mom worked in Chicago’s Drake Hotel lounge as a cigarette girl, a job that had one...

(by Silvia Luque) Looking back, I think my mom did not call my sisters and me into the kitchen to cook with her in order to avoid any...

(by Aimee Lee Ball) The summer that I was four, I was introduced to the rocky Wissahickon Creek, a tributary of the Schuylkill River in...