The week went by. Everyday the same. Anne worked on her Sunday school project every night before going to bed. When Sunday rolled around Anne woke up on her own eyeing the deep blue sky with half a hidden fireball. All ready to go to Church, she sat watching the sun set and waiting for her mother to walk in. As she waited, she whispered a short prayer to herself.
“Dear God, please don’t let people laugh at my project in Church. I didn’t know what else to write. Amen.”
Lisa walked in dressed in a dark blue dress with black imprinted roses. She smiled seeing Anne all dressed and ready so early.
“Up so early, huh, dear? I’m proud. Did you do your project?”
“Yes,” Anne said, “I can’t wait.’ Anne finished without a single drop of enthusiasm.
When it came time for the Sunday school students to read their projects Anne became a little frightened. She never got up in front of so many people to read something she wrote. Her own words on paper. Words she was scared of. The paragraph stabbed her right in her tiny heart. Still, she had to read it.
“Now, for the Sunday school students. These children have written their own descriptions of their parents. Let’s get started.” The preacher explained.
Four children went ahead of Anne so far. One more and it would be her turn. After he was finished, Anne walked slowly to the stage, and lowered the microphone, a little. Her mother sat smiling at her not knowing what Anne was about to read. Anne opened her mouth, then closed it. She sighed looking around all the people. Then, she opened her mouth again.
My Pearents.
By: Anne Lee Brooke,
I wish I had somthing beter to say but I dont.
I’m going to start with my daddy. I don’t
think I hav one. Maybe, but he’s not hear
for me. He left me and mommy wen I was
born. I wish he was hear, but from the start.
I need him, but I don’t care to no him after
he left once. My mommy is hear, but she
doesn’t seem to notise me much. She’s a
nice person but I dont no her much. I wish I
did. I love her a lot. I hope she loves me.”
Anne finished with tears in her eyes. She worded things like her mom. She probably would grow up to be a writer, too. Anne looked at her mother then at everyone else. The people…they were crying, sobbing, and frowning. Anne walked back to the Sunday school room. She needed some peace. A second later, her mother walked in. In the other room she heard the preacher call for the next reader.
“Anne, honey? I’m sorry. I never knew you felt this way. I didn’t realize I have been ignoring you so much. I guess I have been putting my writing and the house chores ahead of you. I’m sorry. I will make sure I put full attention on you, from now on, OK? Anne?” Lisa whispered wiping away crystal tears.
“Promise me, Mommy, promise me. I need a friend to play with in the sand, someone to talk to. You know, I write good, too.” Anne explained positively.
Lisa let out a short, soft laugh.
“I bet you do write good, honey. It’s a promise.”
Lisa pulled Anne into her arms and held her tight.
Then, Anne said, “Mommy, when we get home, I want to show you something, OK?”
“OK.” Lisa agreed.
When they got home both went straight to Anne’s room. Anne reached under her bed and pulled out a piece of paper. Her mother sat beside her on the bed and read the words her daughter wrote: We’ll Be Frends Someday A wunderful lady I no seems to be out of my reach. I don’t see her much, usually I do when we go heer the pastor preech. She’s only a holding hand away. But, she seems to disapeer in every sun ray. I’m going to build sandcastles with her in the sand box. And make puppets together with socs. Right, now, I best stay out of her way. But, I no we’ll be friends someday. By: Anne Lee Brooke Anne was sitting patiently as her mother read the words. When she saw her mother put the paper on the bed, she looked at her mother’s hazel eyes and blond curls. “Did you like it?” She asked her Mother. She noticed her Mother crying. “Oh, Anne. I love you so much. From now on, I’m going to build sand castles everyday with you. I’ll put on puppet soc shows and everything else I’ve missed. I’m so sorry, honey.” Lisa embraced her daughter in her arms. The someday in Anne’s poem started that very moment. Her mother kept her promise true everyday. They arranged a playtime for each day. Most of the time Anne sat in the sandbox building golden sandcastles till dark. She wasn’t along, though. Her mother was right beside her doing the same. How she loved her daughter so. Her amazing little, darling Anne.