Journal Entry On The Long Road Home

When you’re asleep, the pain stops. There are no thoughts or ideas that run through your brain, you are emotionless. I wish I could feel like that now, all the thoughts start to get to you’re head. At times I wish that I could end it, just to stop the pain. But I need to stay alive, to make sure they’re all okay. Afterwards, I can do as I like but right now, they are my main priority. I can't lose them, they are my one and only family. If they’re gone, then i'm nobody. I just need to go, the longer I wait the more I put myself at risk. Even though I hate myself for what i’ve done, I still need to stay

When I was at school the other day, my band instructor told me, “You are one of the hardest workers I have ever seen, why do you work so tirelessly if you know that you might fail? I was quite surprised because she has been teaching for 33 years. I responded with your book, Almost Home.

You awake with a breeze twirling with the fragments of hair left on your scalp; a dance known only to friends of the oncoming light. You open your eyes only to see the endless ocean in the sky. You do not see your family, nor your friends. You demand your legs and arms to function, they do not. You beg them to work the one time you need them to, and in defiance to the groan of your bones, you stand. You begin to wonder if this is a dream, a nightmare. It’s not real. I will see them when I wake up. They are fine. It’s not real. The earth rises and in its presence is the rubble of your home, your brother’s home, and your neighbor’s home, scattered and utterly destroyed. With a horrible realization, you start screaming for the arms of your children and wife to wrap around you once again. You can’t hear yourself scream. You can’t hear anything except the deafening silence. You drop to our knees while your eyes are drowned in a river of sorrow. Then, you feel the small hands of your children grasp yours with surprising fierceness. Though your wife is nowhere to be seen in the mist of dust, you have never been so relieved to bask in the mist of ruins and death.

I woke up on a warm sunny Saturday morning and went down stairs and called my friend Joey Gliech and said “Today is the day!”

I HAD BEEN ASLEEP QUITE SOUNDLY FOR A COUPLE HOURS, WHEN I WAS AWOKEN BY AN ALL TOO FAMILIAR SOUND. IT SEEMED LIKE EVERY TIME MY BRAIN REGISTERED CERTAIN NOISES - EVEN WHEN I WAS DEEP IN SLEEP, IT SENT OFF A PANIC TRIGGER THAT FLOODED THROUGH MY MIND. THIS WAS ANOTHER ONE OF THOSE TIMES.

It all started on a dare, I was told to join the armed forces. So I did, but everything changed that day when I saw a petty officer sprinting down the street. Only to stop not 2 feet in front of me and say “urgent telegram for Sergeant Rose!!” Which is when I knew that something was different because I never get anything important from the air force, I had only become sergeant a month ago. The briefing was hard because we knew most wouldn’t come back. Then it was shipping day. The steps toward the plane weren’t any better most of the men were married and yet most of them knew, knew that more likely than not they weren’t making it back. As for the ones that would be able to sleep on their own beds after this, well it would be worse. They would have to live with the fact that they lost their brothers in arms, but hey I'm getting ahead of myself, gotta focus on surviving.

I try to open my eyes, but all I wanted to do was sleep. My mine drifted into a dark void of nothingness, and that all I remember of my last days; beside waking up here, and finding

I was walking home from the grocery store. As I was walking across the street, a tank rolled up to my side. I remembered when my mother was taken to prison, and my father and brother were killed for protesting about the government. It was just me and my little sister in my family’s, empty, apartment. We had to sell almost everything to afford to eat, and my parents were the only ones to work since I was in high school, my brother was in college, and my little sister was only five.

The air was crisp, with a hint smell of chili pepper only the rich will only ever be able to afford in this war. People that were 18 had to go into a military draft and the better they were, the better the chance they will get drafted into the stupid military squadron. This war has been going on for 5 years, ever since I was a 14-year-old girl. The day that it would take effect when I would be put into that draft. I know I would be put into their and picked since I was the best.

The room is peaceful now, it is just Aaron and I sitting here with our son. Holding him and just looking at him while he sleeps. A nurse comes in and I ask her when we can go home and she says, "it looks like you can tomorrow."

Journal Entry #17- I’ve been in Vancouver for a few hours and it is gorgeous. Earlier I went to Stanley Park and sat on a bench and fed squirrel. Afterwards, I went to the aquarium where I saw mesmerizing jellyfish and breathtaking Beta fish! The people here are also amazing they’re so welcoming it’s crazy. It’s a shame I have to leave in a few day but I’m excited to go home soon.

After sitting in the rain for an hour, I decided to take old Phoebe home. We decided to walk. Phoebe started talking about the guy she liked, and it reminded me of Jane, the hell I know why. Honestly, I didn't listen to her at all, all I know about this guy is that his name his Bob and that he likes playing football. And then I heard Phoebe’s voice, “Holden you are coming home right?” I didn't know what to goddam say. I knew I couldn't, but I said “Yes”, I didn’t want to make her sad. When we got home my mom opened the door and she was so goddam happy to see me but even with all the happiness in her eyes you could see that something was wrong. I bet it had something to do with Allie.

I thought the end of the war would be exciting, but I was wrong. In school they told us that the war was over and I was very nervous and anxious. During school that day I could barely focus on any of the subjects my teacher was talking about, especially social studies since all we were talking about was the war. I had been waiting for a very long time to see if my father had survived the war and today was the day that all of the troops would be coming home. My mother had been working long and hard at a shoe factory that my father worked at before the war. Everyday I would go home and no one would be there since I was an only child and my only company was my pet goldfish, Sir Bubbles the first. I wouldn’t see my mother until about 8 p.m. every night and she would always leave very early in the morning before I even woke up.

Nights can sometimes be overwhelming, when you feel like crying but I hear an angel and to my ears she says softly, “Mommy everything will be all right”. Years of sweetness have now been replaced by bitterness. My home has been stricken by false misfortunes and difficulties. The ones that any ordinary family could ever bear. Through the years I have found some refuge, a lightning bolt who always knew me and who always believe in me. Yes, he was my lightning bolt and my spear- the kind that would provide, protect and respect nevertheless a receptacle of love for me and my angel. But now my lightning bolt and spear have been taken away from me. A decision I cannot even discuss nor tell my daughter. I do not know if Kafka was right about the Plague, I should have listen, I should have been more aware and conscious. My house has been shattered into so many different pieces, the ones I cannot piece together. Still I am fortunate to have my angel right by my side, she comforts, she heals and she wipes away my tears. How can justice be not fair? How can life be not just? How can days be not brighter? These are a few questions that are left stranded in my thoughts. Questions that are often left in bed while I am sleeping. The so many sleepless nights, worries, restlessness and even deprivation. These issues are non-confronting but yet are visible and aggressive like tigers in the night. My voice is light and unresponsive towards these furor. I look at myself in the mirror

Imagine, twenty five years without knowing if your family is still alive. Twenty five years you have lived away from home. Spending a majority of your life not being able to kiss your mother, nor your siblings. A Long Way Home is an autobiography based on the story of five-year-old Sheru Munshi Khan, who finds himself lost in Calcutta, the capital of India (his country of origin). Sheru had intended that he would just tag along with his brother, Guddu, as he ventured to Khandwa for his work on the trolley but Sheru felt tired and collapsed onto a bench at the station. Guddu told his little brother to wait and promised to be back shortly. Waking up with his brother out of sight, he boards a stopped train and like he was overtaken by a jolt