A Letter To Phillip

So  I  love to write,so my blog might be a place where  I want to share my writing.These are letters that I wrote from the perspectives from girl whose brother has gone off to war.I wrote this for  English Class and i kind of like it so here you go

January 11th 1942

Dear Phillip,

I know you said that you’d write first but it’s been two months and not a word has arrived from you.It’s so hard to be unable to tell you about my daily going ons. Whenever  something happens to me I always want to tell you about it, but you’re never there. I know you’re probably busy, and have more important things to worry about but Mother is too wrapped up in her own grief to care about what is happening to me.

 

   Sarah’s brother got his letter yesterday, he’s set to leave for training next week. Last night Sarah and I sat outside and just stared at the sky. None of our friends understand what it’s like to have a brother go off to war. We have never been close but I think this will bring us closer. While we were talking we talked about the future, and have decided that if the war goes on  ny longer we would try to become nurses together.

  

  I can hear you yelling at me across the page, telling me about wasting my future. It’s not fair for you, so why should it be fair to me? You always wanted to become a scientist and because of the war that dream may never come true. If I was a boy, our roles would be reversed. I can put my dreams of becoming a teacher on hold for awhile,The war shouldn’t any longer anyway. Maybe you’ll even be home for next Christmas. I’ll save the present I bought for you, you’ll love it.

 

   It’s so hard to talk about such banal things when you’re off in the trenches. It’s so unfair that you- a boy who would never hurt a fly- have to fight in what people are calling the worst war in history. I fall asleep every night with the words “it’s not fair” haunting me. I also hear mother’s weeps and sobs, and for the past two months they have been the awful lullaby that has rocked me to sleep.I should probably stop  writing, you probably don’t have a lot of spare time.

 

Write Back Soon,

Angelica.

 

                                                                                                                     March 28th 1942

Dear Philip,

 

It’s been another two months, and still not a word from you. I’m sorry if I overwhelmed you  with my letter. I know that I talked too much,that I was abrasive, and I didn’t even ask  about you.You always did say I was full of myself .So how are you?Have you made any new friends?I have so many questions for you, but I don’t want to waste your time answering them. The only thing I want you to worry about  is staying alive, but please if you could just write a small note to just tell mother and I that you’re okay that would be great.

 

It’s been five days since I started writing this letter. March 28th was the day the officers came. I answered because mother was making dinner. Two men in uniform;one young ,one old handed me a telegram. I don’t remember what they said but I do remember the sound of mother’s screams at the sight of the army men. I didn’t even need to say anything, she just knew. So while I stood there stunned, the officers tried to comfort her. I couldn’t imagine you dead, I found it unfathomable that I was breathing and living and you weren’t. I know I’ve used this word before but it’s not fair.  For the past five days  I’ve laid awake thinking about all the things you could have done if you were given the chance. I think about the man who did this to you,and I hate him.

 

 There’s no body to bring back, but we’ve decided to still have a gravestone next to Dad’s. I don’t think mother ever expected to go before both her husband and son.The funeral is set to occur next week. Our next door neighbor, Miss Schuyler has helped us every step of the way. Remember how we always used to pull pranks on her? Well she’s not that bad. She lost two sons in the first world war and she’s been helping mom deal with her grief

  

 I don’t even know why I keep writing you, it’s not like you’re ever going to read it.But no one understands, not even Sarah. So I have to tell someone.I’ve never been the type of person to write a journal, but writing to you is different. You have always been the one person who I trust more than anything in this world, and now that you’re gone it’s hard to trust anyone.  People keep on coming to our house to offer their condolences, and they keep on telling me about you as if I wasn’t the one who knew you the best. Sometimes they tell me things that I know aren’t true and I just don’t understand why they keep lying to me. Your science teacher came yesterday and he seemed to be the saddest of them all. He kept on telling me about how smart you were, and all the things you could have done. His words were the ones most filled with truth.

 

Nothing in this world is just.  In two years I will be older than you were when you died. I get to live and you don’t. If i have children, they will grow older than you. They will  get to live and you don’t. Millions of people will grow older than you. Hitler  has been able to live sixty years while you will never make it to your twenty first birthday.So many people get to live, but not you.If I could trade my life for yours, I would do it an instant because that would mean mother would be happy and you’d be able to do what you always wanted to do.

 

I think I’m going to keep writing to you, it really helps to put my thoughts onto a page.. I know there’s no address for heaven, so I’ll just store them in an old hat box. I’ll do it until it stops hurting, if that day ever comes.

 

I’ll write back soon,

Angelica.

 

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