Letters

I was heartbroken when Clare left, but we had the privilege to write letters. Here is my first letter I wrote.

Dearest Clare,

I wish we were together today. I miss you so much. I don't understand why dad made you leave. But miracles do happen. Stuff is going well here, Mom is happy, I am thinking about visiting you. So, it's great. How are you doing?

Stephan.

I wrote letters every day. One day, my mom said, "Why do you write so many letters?"

It's true, but my sister wrote longer letters than me.

Dearest Stephan,

You mentioned that things are quiet there. Silence is a luxury I don’t have anymore.

Dad says he needs to "harden" me. He says I’m too soft for what’s coming. We’ve been running drills since sunrise—nine hours of marching through the rough terrain until my feet are blistered and bloody.

But it’s Dad that scares me, Stephan. He’s not himself. He refuses to eat, and I haven't seen him drink water in two days. He just stares at the horizon like he’s waiting for something to attack us. He keeps me up half the night with his lectures, so I’m writing this by the light
of the embers. Dinner was just "fire cake"—burnt dough and ash.

I miss the old days. I miss you sneaking me candy and real food. I feel like I’ve aged ten years in a week. I hope I see you next year, but honestly, I don't know if I can last that long out here.

Regards,

Clare

When I saw the letter, I was shocked. She acted like she was older than me! Longer letters, formal endings. It didn't make sense.

My mom was cooking dinner and I was writing another letter. It went like this:

Dear Clare,

I really want you to come home. Mom does too. Please tell Dad to bring you home.

Your brother, Stephan.

"Dinner!" My mom shouted.

"Alright"

It was chicken and rice for dinner. I would have been more excited about it if Clare were here.

"Are you alright?" my mom asked.

"Nie bardzo"

" Ooh. Putting some Polish in your speech, eh?"

I nodded.

"Well, when you finish, you are meeting Clare at the airport!"

"Really?!?"

My mom held her laughter. My mom was a prankster, but that time, it wasn’t funny.

I frowned.

"Good night," I said as I walked upstairs.

My mom still held her laughter.

I went upstairs and went to sleep.