Memorial Day is a holiday, celebrated by Americans. It honors the millions of people that died while serving in their military. It was originally called, “Decoration Day.” People started celebrating their veterans in the years following the Civil War, although it didn't become an official holiday until 1971. People honor their lovers ones that passed away by visiting cemeteries where loved ones are buried, memorials, family events, and participate in parades.
For many years, Americans celebrated Memorial Day on May 30, but in 1968, Congress passed the Uniform Monday Holiday Act. This act accustomed people to celebrate on the last Monday of May, so that federal employees could enjoy a three-day weekend. This took effect in 1971.
Learning about this holiday inspired me to write this short story for you.
We Will Miss You
The year is 1863, we live in Virginia. Everything is chaos because Dad’s off at war and mom has to work. She’s a teacher, so when she comes home, she teaches my younger siblings how to count to ten and sing the alphabet. Ma says we’re prosperous, so I have a teacher that comes to our house during the day and plenty of food for supper time. I miss my dad, uncle and big brother, I feel safer with them nearby.
There is fighting in the town next to us, and Ma says she wants to move. I asked her, “To a different town?”
“Honey, just a little further,” she replied. She said we’re going to go to Michigan and live along a big blue lake.
“But how will Daddy find us?” Little Bo said.
“He always finds his way,” Ma assured her with a warm hug. I wanted to believe her, I really did.
Months later, we moved west. We took almost nothing, except what we needed to make a new life. Everything was still chaotic, just not as near to us. We spent summers in the lake, trying to forget that there were men fighting, men still dying. We received letters from Dad and big brother, talking about how much they loved and missed us. They sent their locations and I focused to remember communication because if I forgot,I wouldn't know what had happened to them. It was the only way to keep my faith in them.
I took to a journal to write about each day, the struggles, the benefits, and the normal routines we continued. Big brother’s letters kept coming, but Dad’s production slowed down. Each month, one or two less. I assumed he got busy or maybe he was injured. I had hoped it hadn't come to that, you know. Death? When we walked through the towns people would frown sadly at us. Did they know something we didn't?
One day, a manilla envelope arrived in the mail. It looked like a normal letter, except the missing return address. I thought nothing of it, until Ma read its contents. Her face when blank, no more than blank. It looked as if a part of her died. I ran to her, read the letter, and my face became hers. Below, I read the words, “We regret to inform you that your family member ‘Roger Johnson’ is deceased,” the rest was legal information. My little sibling walked up to us, seeing our distress. Ma gripped the letter to her chest.
“What does it say, Mommy?” Little Suzanne asked. I wasn't sure if she was in a state to answer the question, so I answered for her.
“It says, ‘Dad is going on a little vacation, but he'll be back very soon.’”
“Ok, tell him, ‘Suzy misses Daddy.’ Can you tell him?” She asked me. I saw the glimmer in her eye and I couldn't destroy that for her.
Birds fly in the sky. They seem so peaceful and free to escape from their problems. I want to be like a river. I want to travel long distances, seeing the sights in different areas. I want to be noticed and appreciated. I want things to rely on me and I want to rely on them. It sure will be hard without my dad, but I'll try. Hopefully Suzy and Bo will rely on me to help raise them because I know I'll rely on them later. Maybe my grand children will read my journal and maybe they'll have an amazing father because they're going to hear wonderful stories of their great grandfather.
- Juliette C.
For many years, Americans celebrated Memorial Day on May 30, but in 1968, Congress passed the Uniform Monday Holiday Act. This act accustomed people to celebrate on the last Monday of May, so that federal employees could enjoy a three-day weekend. This took effect in 1971.
Learning about this holiday inspired me to write this short story for you.
We Will Miss You
The year is 1863, we live in Virginia. Everything is chaos because Dad’s off at war and mom has to work. She’s a teacher, so when she comes home, she teaches my younger siblings how to count to ten and sing the alphabet. Ma says we’re prosperous, so I have a teacher that comes to our house during the day and plenty of food for supper time. I miss my dad, uncle and big brother, I feel safer with them nearby.
There is fighting in the town next to us, and Ma says she wants to move. I asked her, “To a different town?”
“Honey, just a little further,” she replied. She said we’re going to go to Michigan and live along a big blue lake.
“But how will Daddy find us?” Little Bo said.
“He always finds his way,” Ma assured her with a warm hug. I wanted to believe her, I really did.
Months later, we moved west. We took almost nothing, except what we needed to make a new life. Everything was still chaotic, just not as near to us. We spent summers in the lake, trying to forget that there were men fighting, men still dying. We received letters from Dad and big brother, talking about how much they loved and missed us. They sent their locations and I focused to remember communication because if I forgot,I wouldn't know what had happened to them. It was the only way to keep my faith in them.
I took to a journal to write about each day, the struggles, the benefits, and the normal routines we continued. Big brother’s letters kept coming, but Dad’s production slowed down. Each month, one or two less. I assumed he got busy or maybe he was injured. I had hoped it hadn't come to that, you know. Death? When we walked through the towns people would frown sadly at us. Did they know something we didn't?
One day, a manilla envelope arrived in the mail. It looked like a normal letter, except the missing return address. I thought nothing of it, until Ma read its contents. Her face when blank, no more than blank. It looked as if a part of her died. I ran to her, read the letter, and my face became hers. Below, I read the words, “We regret to inform you that your family member ‘Roger Johnson’ is deceased,” the rest was legal information. My little sibling walked up to us, seeing our distress. Ma gripped the letter to her chest.
“What does it say, Mommy?” Little Suzanne asked. I wasn't sure if she was in a state to answer the question, so I answered for her.
“It says, ‘Dad is going on a little vacation, but he'll be back very soon.’”
“Ok, tell him, ‘Suzy misses Daddy.’ Can you tell him?” She asked me. I saw the glimmer in her eye and I couldn't destroy that for her.
Birds fly in the sky. They seem so peaceful and free to escape from their problems. I want to be like a river. I want to travel long distances, seeing the sights in different areas. I want to be noticed and appreciated. I want things to rely on me and I want to rely on them. It sure will be hard without my dad, but I'll try. Hopefully Suzy and Bo will rely on me to help raise them because I know I'll rely on them later. Maybe my grand children will read my journal and maybe they'll have an amazing father because they're going to hear wonderful stories of their great grandfather.
- Juliette C.