Eat, Darling, Eat 

(by Meliora Dockery) The bench on the front porch feels hard and cold, and the chipped paint of the latticework, where roses climb in the...

(by Hajer Almosleh) In the summer of 2007, as a Sweet Sixteen birthday present to me, my parents split. And because my mother was, and...

(by Christine Flowers) I am half Italian, which means I am all Italian except when I’m sleeping. In other words, while I live and breathe...

(by Serina Bernstein) It is Monday morning, the year is 2003, and the location is Los Angeles, California. George W. Bush is making plans...

(by Sui Nakashima) When I was a little girl, my mother was rarely at home before dinner during the week; she worked in the office of a...

(by Catherine Valentine Parish) My mother and I have a bond that I am discovering only now as I approach my 27th birthday. As the middle...

(by Karine Boulianne) Somehow, any arguments with my daughter Kellie-Anne rarely last beyond five minutes of sulking, despite the fact...

(by Linda E. Simon) I was a latchkey kid before the term was in vogue. A first-generation American, my mother, Goldie, skipped two grades...

(by Raj Anderson) Too often, when I reflect on my relationship with my estranged mother, I think about the bad stuff. But it’s true that...

(by Anne DeSantis) Starting very early in their childhood, my two daughters and I had a lot of fun in the kitchen. The reason there was...

(by Deirdre Towers) My mother Shavaun chalked up my presence to “pantry love.” "It’s not true," I’d protest, a whine that would be met...

(by Prudence Wright Holmes) Every Sunday after church, my mother makes a big dinner. One of her favorite dishes is City Chicken—cubes of...

(by Phyllis Pastore) As a kid, I thought my parents were Lucy and Desi. Seriously. My dad, whose family was from Sicily, wore his hair in...

(by Kelly Victoria) I stared at the gooey slice of pecan pie of front of me, poking it with my fork. “Kel, is something wrong with the...

(by Lisa DePaulo) My paternal grandmother, Maria Grazia DiPaolo, was, to put it mildly, a piece of work—especially to her...

(by Gabriella Marie) I could hear Julie Andrews singing, “The hills are alive with the sound of music…” from inside the kitchen, and I...

(by Margaret Crane) My mother, who almost never cooked, used to treat a holiday meal like a performance—evidence of her prowess at...

(by ReW STaRR) Friends often pointed out that my house was like the movie Mermaids: Cher was the mom to Wynona Ryder and Christina Ricci,...

(by Melissa Jeanne Givey) "I know you already talked to Aunt Jeanne" were the first words my mom said to me on 9/11. I'd called to let...

(by Christine Celozzi) My mother, my mother, my mother. She’s a complex character with multiple layers, some of which I’ve grown to...