Joan In 1939

March 1, 2010
By TylerTrickles BRONZE, Centereach, New York
TylerTrickles BRONZE, Centereach, New York
3 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
"The cup is not half empty as the pessimist says. As far as he sees nothing's left in the cup."

JULY 3rd 1939
The laced edges of my sunflower frock filled with luminous colors swayed gently from one side to the other. The saxophones’ blared through the gymnasium and my sister was as gloomy as she ever was. Yet, my parents told me unlike her, my smile was brighter than any sun in the sky.
My sister thought differently. The corridors eased open and revealed a slender young man caped in his United States army uniform. My sister’s eyes expanded and her mouth curved into a smile. It appeared that among the crowd, there was an uproar of applaud. The soldier strolled in formally with their shoulders straight and heads at attention. The lengths of their steps were more of a march then a simple step.
“Hi Thomas!” My sister’s long, dragging scarlet sequin dress trailed behind her.
“Hello, Sylvia,” He said in return, performing his most formal bow. She curtsied. From the corner of my eye I took sight of my father taking my mother’s hand romantically and asking her for a replicated dance of the one they knew twenty years ago on their wedding day.
I approached my sister cautiously, “Syl, will you have this dance with me?”
“Not now Joan, Syl’s busy!” She threw her arms into the air. I cried.
“I’ll dance with you little one,” Thomas chuckled, picking me up in his husky arms.
My sister seared with envy.
“Welcome, honored soldiers! Welcome to our nation’s Independence Day Military Dance!”

December 7th 1941
There were frantic messages being broadcasted over the radio stations. My entire town was in frenzy over who was going where; service men were preparing to be drafted. I trembled on my porch watching helplessly as neighbors passed.
After a while the town was grim and everyone was moving so much slower, unnaturally slower.
I glance over at my sister, flirting with Thomas. I waved my palms back and forth to regain my sister’s attention, “Ma and Pa want you back at home!”
But one’s hearth is not important when a man is right where you want them. He smiled at me, but she just glared and kissed him, solemnly.
What competition is an eight year old girl with a twenty one year old man?

The author's comments:
This was inspired by a story told by my grandma who grew up in WWII. But this is not the exact story she told me, it was only inspiration.

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