Black script lettering reading Family is my Strength across the inner wrist of a light-skinned arm.

Family is my strength script on the wrist

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of a black script tattoo on the inner wrist, reading Family is my Strength across two lines. The letters are solid black with smooth, flowing strokes and some shading at the joins. The pale skin and dark wooden surface behind the arm create strong contrast, and the text fills the centre of the frame.

Lettering Forearm Family Strength Quote Script

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mind the stair, the seventh landing's wet again, and don't you touch that lift, it has opinions. Sit there where I can see you. No, the good chair, the one without the spring. You want the winter the power went off in Hartley House, and I'll tell it once, so pay attention to the bits that matter.

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The block had twenty-two floors and nine families who would not speak to each other by the time the snow came. Mrs Okafor on fourteen had fallen out with the Dunnings over a wheelie bin. Old Mr Pryce on nineteen kept his radio so loud you could hear the cricket through the concrete. When the heating went cold, nobody cared about the bin any more. Forty-one people, two dogs and a parrot ended up in the ground floor laundry room with one camping stove, a tin of boiled sweets and a bath full of melted snow.

Nobody asked whose turn it was to fetch water. The lad from twelve carried buckets up and down those stairs until his trainers split. My mother, who never said a kind word without sighing first, sat by the mangle stitching blankets out of old curtains. When Mr Pryce asked her why she bothered with strangers, she bit off the thread and said, family is whoever comes down the stairs when you call. Then she went back to her sewing as if she had not said anything at all.

When the power came back in March, the lift still didn't work, and Mrs Okafor and the Dunnings still weren't speaking. But on Thursdays they took turns hauling each other's shopping up to the fourteenth floor, one bag each, and nobody mentioned the bin. So when someone tells you that you're not really family, think of those stairs. Now go and put the kettle on, and mind the wet bit on seven.