Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Write in the ADVENTURE genre (05/24/07)
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TITLE: A Quest For Home | Previous Challenge Entry
By Beverly Caviness
05/28/07 -
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Exhausted from the trip, but to excited to sleep Ila Mae pulled her precious diary from the valise on the floor. Flipping through the pages she started to read. Was it really just four years ago she mused?
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February 10, 1909: Dear Diary, Today I helped Papa put his tools in the wood chest he made. We packed Mama's Mason jars in loose hay so they won't get broken. The green beans, tomatoes and peaches will taste good once we get to our new home in Wyoming territory.
February 12, 1909: Dear Diary, Papa loaded everything we own into the boxcar, I mean EVERYTHING, the plow, the wagon, the table and chairs. The cows didn't minds so much but he had a time getting old Boyd and Ben settled. The chickens sure put up a squawk (worse then the one Mama made). I wanted to ride in the boxcar too, but Mama said, NO. I had to ride in the passenger car with her.
February 24, 1909: Dear Diary, We finally made it to our station, Campstool, and to our new home just three miles south. If we live here five years Papa says the land will be ours. I never saw so much of nothing in all my life. No roads, No nothing, just sand.
April 10, 1910: Dear Diary, I miss going to school there is no one to play with here except Buster. What would I do without my Buster? They're planning a meeting today to try and get one started (a school). Papa left early this morning, Mama said he won't be home till dark. She'll hang the lantern in the upstairs window so he can find his way home across the prairie.
August 30, 1911: Dear Diary, It was the most wonderful day of my whole life. We got up before the chickens and started out as the sun peeked over the cowshed. It was sooooo exciting. I can hardly believe it. Old Boyd pulled the wagon all the way (thirteen miles Papa said) to Cheyenne. It was Frontier Days, and there he was standing on the platform right in front of the grandstand, The President of the United States, Theodore Roosevelt. Then he road in the parade in a horseless carriage. Imagine that, I saw my very first President and my first auto something they called it. I shall never ever forget it.
September 10, 1911: Dear Diary, I cried myself to sleep last night, my eyes are still red, and my stomach hurts. Papa had to shoot Buster, my dear, dear Buster. He was acting sort of strange and he had this white stuff around his mouth. Mama screamed at me ILA MAE YOU GET INTO THIS HOUSE RIGHT NOW. I came in as fast as I could. Papa had his shotgun and shot poor Buster from the window. They said Buster was mad. I shall miss him so very, very much.
December 25, 1911: Dear Diary, It is Christmas today. Mama cooked one of her old hens. I think it was about to die anyhow. She let me help make a cake with an egg in it. Mostly she takes the eggs into Campstool to sell. Papa lets her have the egg money.
April 16, 1912: Dear Diary, Papa hitched old Boyd up and we road in the wagon to Campstool to buy flour and pickup our weekly mail. On the way home Mama was reading our paper, The Kansas City Star, and down at the bottom of the page it said. "Titanic sunk read more about it next week."
January 10, 1913: Dear Diary, I could hear Mama hollering at Papa again last night. She wants to go back to Iowa. I don't blame her, but I wish she wouldn't holler at Papa.
` * * *
Ila Mae set up with a start as the conductor voice rang out, "Next stop CRESTON, IOWAAA. This way out please and don't forget your parcels." Ila Mae carefully placed her diary back into her valise as her mother cried, "ILA MAE, We're HOME. Home at last!"
Based on a true accounts told to me by my mother-in-law.
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