Last Life, Live It 2

April. 15, 1861

 Dear diary, I have decided to keep a journal of my travels where ever it may take me. The reasons for my departure may not have been clear in my last entry. Although the strictness of my parents was one reason for my departure there were others. Word of civil war has reached Summerton South Carolina where I live, or should I say lived with my family, and I want to get north before the war gets worse. I hear that there are more factories up there anyway, which could mean greater opportunities to get a job even if it also means giving up dreams of music. Here in South Carolina women are expected to cook, clean and take care of the children. I just hope its different up north.

 I thought about leaving my parents a note but I couldn’t manage to think of anything to write. That just proves how little they’ve done for me… Instead I decided to leave my other notebook there with past writings of hate towards… “past events“ that I would rather not talk about now. Even though there were blank pages left in that book I still wanted to start a new one. This new book and its empty pages symbolize a new chapter in my life, my new beginning.

 But enough about the past lets move on…

April. 16, 1861

 I’ve never seen such a beautiful sunrise. The haze that lingers in the air every morning seems to be much thicker today. The fog is magnifying the suns rays and filling the air with light pinks and purples. Its so beautiful from where I am sitting I can’t really describe it as good as I would like to. Breath taking.

 What a perfect day to start my journey, even though I really left yesterday. I didn’t move very far from home but just far enough so they couldn’t find me. Right now I’m sitting under my neighbors tree in the grassy field behind his house, exactly where I fell asleep last night. Tiny dew drops are clinging to my dress making it feel damp and uncomfortable, not that dresses were ever very comfortable. I’ve always hated them, that’s why I grabbed a pair of my brothers pants, and suspenders, and an old coat of my dads. Oh how I miss my brother. He died about a year ago at the age of 17. I can’t say how he died exactly because I was never told. My parents simply said that he died. There wasn’t a funeral or anything… oh why can’t I stop myself from thinking about the past, nothing good ever comes from it only sadness or anger.