Christmas, I thought, is when Pa is finally coming home! I was anxious for news about Pa, as a matter of fact, so were Ma, Dorothea, and Susannah. As a 12-year-old girl whose father had left for the Revolutionary War, I was naturally worried. From the war camps, Pa promised to mail our family some letters, but no message from Pa had arrived for the past 6 months. Fear gripped me when I wasn’t hearing from Pa or even knowing about his condition at war. Do stop it, I told myself, you can’t act like the little one here, you’re the eldest!
I reminisce about the days of riding horses with Pa. Of his three children, I was the apple of his eye. Not Dora or Sue. Ma greatly despised how Pa allowed me to ride horses and do what she called “men’s work”. She often complained how odd I was, spending time with Pa outside rather than tidying up the house. After Pa was back from his conventional meetings with the other lawyers, he would venture out with me on horseback; he’d ride Liberty, I’d ride Freedom. My most cherished recollection of an adventure with Pa was riding in the woods one day with the rich aroma of cedar, pine, and fir, wafting into my nose. Upon entering the woods, I discovered a diverse variety of birds- blue, yellow, red- singing with their chests swelled and regal heads towards the heavenly sky. Pa and I watched, enchanted by such a glorious scene, and waited for the hours to pass. Gradually, a suffused saffron blanketed above the trees and light diminished. Night arrived. Pa---
“ Prudence Felicity Webber!” a shrill voice pierces my thoughts. Ma.
“Yes, Ma?” I reply, dreading what would happen next. When she calls me by my full name, it hints that I’m in some sort of trouble.
“Pru, why haven’t you finished washing the dishes?” Ma scolds, her brow furrowed in disappointment. “Pru, ‘tis late at this hour, and I wish you to please complete your chore of washing the silverware instead of daydreaming about… about…” Ma abruptly halts in her lecture, her voice trailing behind. She seems to know what I had been thinking about. Pa. “ Oh, Pru, I know ‘tis hard on you.” Silence. Ma starts again, but this time, in a feeble, weak whisper, “‘Tis hard on me, too, with your Pa gone. I miss him miserably so.” She heaves a heavy sigh, her face melancholic. “Now Pru, ‘tis late at night, and I must blow out the candles. A good night to you.” Ma spins on her heel to leave, and blows out the wax-dripping candles in the hallway with a ‘whew!’, disappearing in the darkness.
- - -the next day- - -
“Boom!”
I awake, greatly startled by the blaring noise at the dawn of day.
“BOOM! BOOM!”
I jump out of bed in fright. I distinctly recognize such a thundering sound. The deafening, yet unmistakable sound that Pa taught me so well how to identify. Guns. Cannons. War.
I lay in bed all morning, hysterical with fear. Glistening tears formed in my eyes and hovered for a moment, before falling wetly upon my cheeks. You’re a brave girl. You haven’t seen Pa for a long while, I tell myself, trying to stop myself from crying. Then, in a gentle whisper, I coax, “ He’ll be quite alright. Pa is safe.” I pause, and ponder about my situation. I added, “ If only I could be of help in this war.”
Suddenly, a whirlwind of colors spin around me, and everything seems to cease its movement. Strange, I thought. The curtains weren’t moving any longer. I opened the door of my room, and stealthily entered the kitchen. Dora and Sue, who had been assisting Ma with the morning meal, each stood frozen with a pot of oatmeal and cornmeal mush. Ma, who had been chopping meat for tonight’s supper, was petrified, with her knife in the air. The clock on the wall wasn’t ticking. Time had stopped for everyone. Everyone except me.
Dazzled and confused, I realize the chance lies within my hands.
This is my moment! I think to myself. An opportunity to shine, to check whether Pa is safe and sound! I sprint to the front door, pull a woolen coat around my azure gown and clumsily trip over my petticoat as I slip on my winter boots. Then, I dash out the door and run, despite the falling snow.
I run in the southeast direction, toward the place where I had heard the sound of guns previously this morning. I think of Pa, afraid of change. Will his once-cheery face turn solemn and grave? If only I could see him again! The thought of seeing Pa soon immediately brightened me up and I willed my legs, already filled with fatigue, to push harder, only to exhaust myself more. I glance around, and think, Am I there yet? And then, I see it. Far ahead, about 30 meters further, is a war camp, like the way Pa described to me when he was leaving to fight. I run, ignoring my aching feet and burning lungs. Pa! I want to shout, but stop myself. What if, I think, what if… what if… that war camp is the enemy!
I’m about 2 meters away. I finish up the last distance and peer timidly into a tent. The British! The boldly patched flag of the Mother country is neatly stitched onto their soot-covered army uniforms. I can see their faces of arrogance, frozen, as if captured in a painting or molded finely in a highly detailed sculpture. They seem to have been conversing about plans of attack, as I see a large map, sitting on the table before them, with pen-marks locating ways of ambush. Oh no! I think, what will happen to the Colonial Army? What about Pa? Luckily, I’ve kept a notebook pad in my wool coat’s deep pockets, to jot down any intriguing observations on an adventure with Pa. It’s been filled halfway with drawings and captions under the illustrations. I rashly tore out a sheet, making a jagged edge at the top of the notebook. Pulling a pen out of one of the frozen men’s hands, I hurriedly copy the British’s attack plans, then scout around the camp, spying for more clues and information that the Colonial Army would need. Spotting no more, I race out of the camp, scampering the opposite direction. After all, I thought, the British would only fire their guns at the opposing side. That must mean Pa and the rest of the Colonial Army’s camps are… northwest of home!
I bound straight, and run, the wind tousles my hair. When I arrive, I look around the vast camp, in search of Pa. I finally spot him, sitting around a campfire, and seemed to have been chatting with other fellow war officials. Scars of pain distort his once-handsome face. I look at him, mistrusting my own eyes. What happened to my beloved Pa? No matter, I think, trying to comfort myself, these will be his signs of bravery and heroic deeds!
I swiftly scribble a note to Pa, telling him to trust my note about the British’s plans of ambush. Then, I take one last glance at Pa, then leave. Time was waiting for me.
I returned to my house, rapidly taking off my woolen coat and boots. What will Ma say when she sees my ragged gown? I walk to my room, put on a clean gown, and plop down on my bed. Exhausted, I pant, “I’m glad to have helped the world in the way I did.” The tornado of hues spin around the room and then, I hear the curtains of the window flapping in the wind. I hear Ma chopping the meat. Dora and Sue’s footsteps towards the dining table. Time has resumed to normal. I put on a smile, and pleasantly stride out of my room.
- - - 3 months later- - -
Ma sighs as she places her sliced vegetables in boiling water, and pulls the freshly baked bread out of the stone oven, onto the table. A look of cheeriness is plastered on her face, but when I look at her, I see a look misery clouding her eyes. She really misses Pa, I think.
“When will Nat be back?” I hear Ma mumble to herself. A feeling of doubt pours into me. I agree with Ma. Pa has been gone for far too long. When will he come h---
“... crossing the Delaware on Christmas Day, itself! We were greatly filled with fatigue! No matter now, General, your ingenious plan of action led us toward victory! The looks on the Hessians’ faces! Surprised by the gatecrash we made! Remember that rosy-cheeked, rotund German, who was busy wolfing down the piece of chicken as if it were his last? And that other Hessian who was hastily gulping down beer as we approached? What a feast they were having! Envious was I, starving for nearly a week! Oh, now, we’ve arrived at my home. General Washington, and other fellow officials, allow me to welcome you to dine with my family this evening,” a deep voice made a crescendo on the other side of the front door. Pa! Pa was finally home! I take a glimpse of Ma. A look of triumph and elation I hadn’t seen in a long time colored her originally pale face. I raced to the door and opened it, and tightly hugged Pa. Tears of joy coursed down my cheeks, and I was glad Pa was finally home.
“ Prudence Felicity Webber!” a shrill voice pierces my thoughts. Ma.
“Yes, Ma?” I reply, dreading what would happen next. When she calls me by my full name, it hints that I’m in some sort of trouble.
“Pru, why haven’t you finished washing the dishes?” Ma scolds, her brow furrowed in disappointment. “Pru, ‘tis late at this hour, and I wish you to please complete your chore of washing the silverware instead of daydreaming about… about…” Ma abruptly halts in her lecture, her voice trailing behind. She seems to know what I had been thinking about. Pa. “ Oh, Pru, I know ‘tis hard on you.” Silence. Ma starts again, but this time, in a feeble, weak whisper, “‘Tis hard on me, too, with your Pa gone. I miss him miserably so.” She heaves a heavy sigh, her face melancholic. “Now Pru, ‘tis late at night, and I must blow out the candles. A good night to you.” Ma spins on her heel to leave, and blows out the wax-dripping candles in the hallway with a ‘whew!’, disappearing in the darkness.
- - -the next day- - -
“Boom!”
I awake, greatly startled by the blaring noise at the dawn of day.
“BOOM! BOOM!”
I jump out of bed in fright. I distinctly recognize such a thundering sound. The deafening, yet unmistakable sound that Pa taught me so well how to identify. Guns. Cannons. War.
I lay in bed all morning, hysterical with fear. Glistening tears formed in my eyes and hovered for a moment, before falling wetly upon my cheeks. You’re a brave girl. You haven’t seen Pa for a long while, I tell myself, trying to stop myself from crying. Then, in a gentle whisper, I coax, “ He’ll be quite alright. Pa is safe.” I pause, and ponder about my situation. I added, “ If only I could be of help in this war.”
Suddenly, a whirlwind of colors spin around me, and everything seems to cease its movement. Strange, I thought. The curtains weren’t moving any longer. I opened the door of my room, and stealthily entered the kitchen. Dora and Sue, who had been assisting Ma with the morning meal, each stood frozen with a pot of oatmeal and cornmeal mush. Ma, who had been chopping meat for tonight’s supper, was petrified, with her knife in the air. The clock on the wall wasn’t ticking. Time had stopped for everyone. Everyone except me.
Dazzled and confused, I realize the chance lies within my hands.
This is my moment! I think to myself. An opportunity to shine, to check whether Pa is safe and sound! I sprint to the front door, pull a woolen coat around my azure gown and clumsily trip over my petticoat as I slip on my winter boots. Then, I dash out the door and run, despite the falling snow.
I run in the southeast direction, toward the place where I had heard the sound of guns previously this morning. I think of Pa, afraid of change. Will his once-cheery face turn solemn and grave? If only I could see him again! The thought of seeing Pa soon immediately brightened me up and I willed my legs, already filled with fatigue, to push harder, only to exhaust myself more. I glance around, and think, Am I there yet? And then, I see it. Far ahead, about 30 meters further, is a war camp, like the way Pa described to me when he was leaving to fight. I run, ignoring my aching feet and burning lungs. Pa! I want to shout, but stop myself. What if, I think, what if… what if… that war camp is the enemy!
I’m about 2 meters away. I finish up the last distance and peer timidly into a tent. The British! The boldly patched flag of the Mother country is neatly stitched onto their soot-covered army uniforms. I can see their faces of arrogance, frozen, as if captured in a painting or molded finely in a highly detailed sculpture. They seem to have been conversing about plans of attack, as I see a large map, sitting on the table before them, with pen-marks locating ways of ambush. Oh no! I think, what will happen to the Colonial Army? What about Pa? Luckily, I’ve kept a notebook pad in my wool coat’s deep pockets, to jot down any intriguing observations on an adventure with Pa. It’s been filled halfway with drawings and captions under the illustrations. I rashly tore out a sheet, making a jagged edge at the top of the notebook. Pulling a pen out of one of the frozen men’s hands, I hurriedly copy the British’s attack plans, then scout around the camp, spying for more clues and information that the Colonial Army would need. Spotting no more, I race out of the camp, scampering the opposite direction. After all, I thought, the British would only fire their guns at the opposing side. That must mean Pa and the rest of the Colonial Army’s camps are… northwest of home!
I bound straight, and run, the wind tousles my hair. When I arrive, I look around the vast camp, in search of Pa. I finally spot him, sitting around a campfire, and seemed to have been chatting with other fellow war officials. Scars of pain distort his once-handsome face. I look at him, mistrusting my own eyes. What happened to my beloved Pa? No matter, I think, trying to comfort myself, these will be his signs of bravery and heroic deeds!
I swiftly scribble a note to Pa, telling him to trust my note about the British’s plans of ambush. Then, I take one last glance at Pa, then leave. Time was waiting for me.
I returned to my house, rapidly taking off my woolen coat and boots. What will Ma say when she sees my ragged gown? I walk to my room, put on a clean gown, and plop down on my bed. Exhausted, I pant, “I’m glad to have helped the world in the way I did.” The tornado of hues spin around the room and then, I hear the curtains of the window flapping in the wind. I hear Ma chopping the meat. Dora and Sue’s footsteps towards the dining table. Time has resumed to normal. I put on a smile, and pleasantly stride out of my room.
- - - 3 months later- - -
Ma sighs as she places her sliced vegetables in boiling water, and pulls the freshly baked bread out of the stone oven, onto the table. A look of cheeriness is plastered on her face, but when I look at her, I see a look misery clouding her eyes. She really misses Pa, I think.
“When will Nat be back?” I hear Ma mumble to herself. A feeling of doubt pours into me. I agree with Ma. Pa has been gone for far too long. When will he come h---
“... crossing the Delaware on Christmas Day, itself! We were greatly filled with fatigue! No matter now, General, your ingenious plan of action led us toward victory! The looks on the Hessians’ faces! Surprised by the gatecrash we made! Remember that rosy-cheeked, rotund German, who was busy wolfing down the piece of chicken as if it were his last? And that other Hessian who was hastily gulping down beer as we approached? What a feast they were having! Envious was I, starving for nearly a week! Oh, now, we’ve arrived at my home. General Washington, and other fellow officials, allow me to welcome you to dine with my family this evening,” a deep voice made a crescendo on the other side of the front door. Pa! Pa was finally home! I take a glimpse of Ma. A look of triumph and elation I hadn’t seen in a long time colored her originally pale face. I raced to the door and opened it, and tightly hugged Pa. Tears of joy coursed down my cheeks, and I was glad Pa was finally home.