I buried my face
into my grandfather’s chest. Life felt extremely unfair. Why did they have to
be my parents? What was the point of having the war? Grandpa seemed to
read my thoughts.
“They fought for our country’s peace,” he
whispers in my ear.
I knew that already, but constructing a twisted
gun statue to represent the peace that the soldiers had brought us was way too
much. Everyone thought that the memorial would make us feel stronger. All it
did was make me feel weak and frightened. It wasn’t uplifting, it was a burden.
One I didn’t need.
Hello Neonorange,
ReplyDeleteOnce again, your writing piece has emotion and 'voice'. You make me feel like I am standing right next to you and you grandfather looking at the statue. You are a powerful writer.
Sincerely,
Mrs. Van