I was picking at the lace on the last pillow my mother ever made, before she died of hypothermia. It was a baby pink, with soft white lace all around. Etched into it was an Irish Celtic cross, my mothers side was Irish, and my fathers side was native American, a weird mixture, I know. I let a tear down, wetting the pastel colors, when My father arrived at my door.
“Rose,” he said in his rugged yet soft voice. I jumped up,
“Dad!” I yelled, “how…..when…..” I was at a loss for words, my father chuckled,
“my men are passing through, I was allowed to stay for a few weeks. And decided to stay with you!”
“That’s wonderful news father! You just HAVE to tell me EVERYTHING about the war!” I squealed,
“oh! By the way, is Anastasia’s father home too?”
I questioned quickly.
“of course! He’s one of my best men! And when I retire, I’m recommending him for my position!” he chuckled lightly, but I knew why he hesitated, retired or killed. I sighed, and then he said with his voice full of emotion,
“I missed you, everyday you look more and more like your mother,” He fingered one of my long, curly locks of hair, his eyes glazed, going back to the days he and my mother were courting.
He shivered, then brightened and said,
“well, I bring presents!” he pulled some things from the old cloth bag I had made years ago, for you, a new dress!” he pulled out the loveliest green dress with black lace. Auntie G. exclaimed,
“Darlin’ that will look lovely on yous! I will put those old curlers in your’s hair, and yous is going to that dance!” I gulped, how did she find out?
“dance,” my father said, “what dance?” he looked at me with his stormy gray eyes,
“umm, well, I was going to tell you but…” I faltered as anger came into his eyes,
“well at least tell me you have a date!”
“I…well…..I don’t want to go!” I screamed, “I know mom loved them, but I hate dances, I don’t want to be courted, I want to work! To be a teacher!” my father shook his head and sighed,
“well, I won’t make you go with a boy, but you will go.” he said as if for closure.
“fine!” I snapped, and my father turned to me and, in mock anger, said,
“now young lady! I don’t like that tone of voice! Go to your room!” I squealed with delight,
“this is where the twins get if from,” Auntie G. remarked, which made us all laugh more. When we all calmed down, Auntie G. cooked a ravishing meal. We devoured her famous steak and snapped beans, then we all washed it down with my sweet tea. As I squeezed the last drops of the sunshiny yellow lemon in my tea I remarked, kind of absently,
“I wonder what Anastasia’s dad is like…” my father ran his hand through his raven-feather hair,
“well, tomorrow we shall ride into town, and, if there not too busy catching up, we can stop with a picnic and see if they want to come. It would be nice to see him out of work.”
“that would be wonderful dad!” I exclaimed excitedly.
“I’ll be sure to send George to them to be sure it’s all right!”
Auntie G. promised after clearing the way for her yummy apple pie. She set it down in front of General Reginald and said,
“now look Mr. Army Man, I know your used to slop, and you’s stomach wont process this well, but I made this with you in my’s mind, and you’s bess be eatin’ it!” I laughed as dad pretended to force down a few bites, then devoured rest. We were all sleepy then, being well past midnight, when George returned with good news.
“milady, he said to me, the invitations have been accepted!” my father, in his now drunken state, danced with happiness, and became so wobbly, Auntie G. and George had to help him to bed. As I dressed in my nightgown, I thought of war, was it as brutally bloody as the textbooks said? Did the hills and plains really run a dark scarlet color during and after, and were they really stained by the dying and wounded life’s blood? or was it orderly and playful as the boys played it to be? I sighed as I realized I would never now the dark skies that always was portrayed by the paintings and drawings of war-men.
I climbed into my canopy bed and prayed tomorrow would go well, I had never mat her dad and did not know how to act. I pushed my hair out of my face and blew out my candle, and surrendered to dreams of gunshots and antagonized screams.
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. Also, you got some mistakes as in actions. When the father says something, you put his action in with his saying.
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