Conditional Love

When you said, “I value your effort, not the result,” I believed you loved me; when you said, “Four students got full marks, why didn’t you?” I believed you tried to motivate me; when you said, “You are too stupid even to understand the simplest function,” I believed you were disappointed and didn’t see my pain; when I said, “I don't want to study. I just want to lie in bed,” you said you wished the boy next door who aced all the subjects were your child, and Mum, how could I believe you loved me and not my grade?

From Guest Contributor Huina Zheng

Huina either coaches her students to write at work or write stories for fun after work.

Gram’s Highest Calling

I hadn’t seen Gram at her normal function of serving since those days when I often joined her for her lemon pie. Not because she made it best, but because she needed me to receive it. Her God-given role of serving was dismissed when Gramps passed the nicer way; ‘Goodbye,” he’d whispered, then departed.

Time to let her go, service to others fulfilled. Her release not comforted with him at her side. She’d served her mission the best she could.

Mother phoned this morning. I heard the message in the ring. “She’s gone. It’s all done, but not all said.”

From Guest Contributor The Poet SPIEL

Established communicator of the arts, 81-year-old internationally published queer author/artist, storyteller, The Poet Spiel, writes of social conflict, satire noir, and personal hurdles.