Journal Narrative
I stand by the window, but I am not enjoying the scenery, the window is covered by the flag I put up for my son. I am contemplating; I am worrying; I am praying. He has been fighting in World War II in Europe for seven months and will not be coming back anytime soon, which makes me feel lonely because my only child is not here with me, and I am worried that he will follow in the footsteps of his father and die in the line of fire. I pray to the Lord every day to protect him and keep him healthy, to let him come home.
Ever since he was a child I took care of him and gave him the best life I could. His father died when he was just a child; I’ve raised him by myself as best as I could. We did not have much, but he was always grateful and worked hard. He was determined to be a better person and have a better life for himself. He took that determination into adulthood and decided to serve his country by fighting in the war. While I am proud he is serving his country, I desperately want him to come home. I support my son’s decision to go and fight the war, but I am a mother, I will always worry for my child’s safety, I will always want them to come home, and I will always want them to have everything that they deserve. I do not believe that he deserves to put himself in the line of danger, but I do believe that he is being brave. It is very hard to think about what could possibly happen to my son while he is overseas fighting the war, but he is being strong, so I must also be strong.
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