Week 13: Imagine France, WWII
This piece was written in response to the prompt that asked students to imagine what it was like to be born in a foreign land.
By Meghan Burrows
Crossett Brook Middle School, Grade 7
I can hear the dripping water from the crack on the wall. The damp, cold basement is locked from the German troops. I feel my mother’s cold and purple hands grasping me, holding me tight, and her worry hurting my body. I can see my father’s huddled body across the room; he seems out of place. His thoughts are lost and confused.
Strasbourg was never a loud place; the parks were always blossomed with bright colors and the people there were always pleasant. I remember the Romanof family; Susan, Marcia, Will, and their caring parents Mr. and Mrs. Romanof. They were our neighbors, and they were kind. I also remember the pink and white kite I used to fly in the park. I would take turns flying it with Marcia. We would chase after it, and fly it for hours everyday. After the war started we never saw them again. I loved it all, but now my life has taken a different path.
The Germans have invaded France. Every morning I wake from my sleep to hear the German troops marching through the gray streets, the fighter planes making whistling noises as they survey the skies. The war is causing families to go into hiding for safety.
I hate it down here in this basement, staring at a blank wall everyday. We live off of stale bread and the water from the leaky crack in the wall. My mother is sick. She does not admit it, but her pale face and weak bones show it all. She is filled with sorrow and depression. My heart aches with the pain of her sickness overwhelming her. I can’t stand the thought of losing her.
Our family waits for help, some sign of hope. My father says the Americans will come and help us. I have always believed in my father but in this case, doubt is taking over my hope. Help may come, but will it come in time?
— Sophia Messier, 1942
