Under the Gray Skies by Jacqueline Druga

Author:Jacqueline Druga
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2016-10-07T22:00:00+00:00

NOTEBOOK – DAY TWENTY

Ev,

I think I met a professional wrestler today. Or a former one. She is a soldier at this camp. She shares our tent with us. Madison told me she is going to challenge her. I thought it was funny. Madison jokes and makes a lot of sarcastic comments. Between you and me, kiddo, I think she uses that as a cover up for a lot of pain. I might be wrong. I am not wrong about missing you with all my heart.

I love you!

Mommy

TWENTY-ONE – THE BEAST

It was a bit more difficult than just finding a tent to sleep, as instructed by Major Graham. There were several types. There was a tent for women, men, families, and children alone. There was a sense that they did that to bus survivors south by order of importance. That was probably why I saw the little girl on the bus.

We had dinner which consisted of a thick broth soup, crackers and coffee, then finally Madison and I found the women’s tent and took over a corner. Even though the tent was pretty empty except three other women sleeping, we stayed far enough away. Our cots were close, touching head to head and feeling a bit more energized and optimistic, we talked a lot.

There probably wasn’t a reason to be optimistic about things, but considering a few days earlier we hadn’t seen a person, now we were surrounded by people. That was enough of a reason.

I wrote in my journal more names of those who helped us. I didn’t get the names of the soldiers who drove us to Hilltop so they were simply soldier one and soldier two.

I started something new as well. Notes to my family. I wrote down the date and to each of them a small note. It was something I wanted to do for the trip. Give them my thoughts during my progress of making it home or at least to them. I kept them short because it was hard to see and accomplish. I held a flashlight in my hand while I wrote.

“Are you still writing in that journal?” Madison asked, in a whisper.

“Yeah, I write something every day. I just started notes to my family.”

“What are you saying to them?”

“I just told my daughter about Ruth,” I said. “My husband about you. My son about your sons.”

“That’s nice. Silly, but nice.”

“Why is it silly?”

“What if you lose the journal?” she asked.

“I won’t.”

“But what if you do?”

“Then I’ll look at it as …”

“Shh!” Someone called out.

“Sorry,” I said, then lowered my voice. “I’ll look at it as therapy.”

“And if you don’t lose it, won’t you look silly to your family?”

“No,” I said. “Why would I. My husband would love it. My daughter too. Wouldn’t yours?”

“Bruce would make fun of me. Tease me about being so mushy. I had a blog …”

“Shh,” the voice hollered at us again.

Madison rolled to her stomach and continued, “I had a blog. He used to poke fun of it.”

“That’s because he was jealous because he didn’t do it.

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