To Capture the Light Again

| This is the 464th story of Our Life Logs | My mom gave birth to me in the city of Ikeja, Lagos State, Nigeria, in July 1985—but I should say, I come from a polygamous background. My dad had two wives; the first wife had three sons and four daughters, and my mom, the second wife, had my younger sister and me. My dad made good … Continue reading To Capture the Light Again

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To Return to Myself

| This is the 461st story of Our Life Logs | As a little girl born in 2001, I didn’t grow up knowing anything but my family’s small farm in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, the two horses we had and the beef cattle. I can still remember how it felt like to wake up to animal noises, to play in the creek, my feet all muddy and wet. I … Continue reading To Return to Myself

When Horizons Fall

| This is the 456th story of Our Life Logs | Editor’s Note This is the story of Maureen Fitzpatrick, an American writer and poet, as captured by the team at Our Life Logs®. While the following has been written to match the tone and voice of Maureen, please note that any discrepancies are creative liberties taken by the writer and agreed upon by the storyteller. Enjoy. … Continue reading When Horizons Fall

There Is Life After Opioids

| This is the 426th story of Our Life Logs | I woke to the sound of a nearby train as it whooshed by. I groaned as I stretched my legs out on the compact, double seat of a CTA train I’d chosen for refuge the night before. It wasn’t comfy, but it beat Chicago’s cold and grimy streets. Pain shot through my limbs as I shifted, … Continue reading There Is Life After Opioids

14 Years Later

| This is the 412th story of Our Life Logs | I was born in 1970 to a poor, but hardworking family in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. My childhood was normal, you could say, except that my parents worked all the time and barely had time for me. Without them, home was lonely. Luckily, I had a best friend named Stephen whom I’d known for most of my childhood. … Continue reading 14 Years Later

The Street Artist

| This is the 386th story of Our Life Logs | I was born in Sighthill, Glasgow, in 1983. I grew up on a large council estate with high-rise flats as far as the eye could see. It was full of crime, poverty, and drug addicts. I remember playing in the park as a child and there would be needles scattered like leaves. Buildings were often graffitied … Continue reading The Street Artist

At the Finish Line

| This is the 375th story of Our Life Logs |1 | The Wound“Lives are spared, families heal, things get better.”That wasn’t how things began when I was born in 1966 in the US, that’s for sure. I mean things started out pretty normal I guess, but at the age of three, my mom committed suicide due to drugs and alcohol.  I was obviously too young to … Continue reading At the Finish Line