Abandoned Farmhouse

by Mira Manuja

It has been two long years since it started. They told us all not to worry, that it would be over soon. But they were wrong. The war still goes on, with no end in sight.

As I walk down the creaky stairs of the farmhouse, there is a slight chill in the air that makes me shiver. My husband, Sal, has never been much of an early riser, but there he is, sitting on the table, his head hanging low.

“Good morning!” I say. He doesn’t move. I come and sit next to him. The silence seems to go on forever.

“They have called me,” he whispers. I have to lean in close to be able to hear. I am about to ask what he’s talking about, but then I understand. There have been rumors, but I didn’t think they were true. The war is getting worse, and they need more troops.

“But…” I begin, wanting to protest. He looks me in the eyes. I become quiet. It seems as if the slightest noise or movement could shatter this balance instantly.

Tap

I see a small shadow gliding across the wood floor.

“Lily!” I let out a deep breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. What will I do with Lily? She’s just a child. What would she do without Sal? What would I do without Sal?

Three months pass by so quickly, I wonder if it even happened at all. Between taking care of Lily and trying to meet our needs by selling the preserves from the cellar, there was no time for myself. In some way, it was a good thing, not having time to worry. I finally felt like I was getting a hold on this way of life. Even though things were different, I liked having them the same too.

The farm grounded me. The oaken doors of the farmhouse and the large boulders scattered across the field would always be there, no matter what else changed.

A knock on the door early in the morning wakes me with a start. I rush down the stairs, feeling the same spine tingling chill I felt the day Sal left.

It’s my neighbor. “We have to evacuate as soon as possible! The war is moving this way!” he says, out of breath, as he rushes back to his home.

My heart stops. I struggle to breathe as I feel a tug on my dress.

“Mom, are you okay?” It’s Lily, awakened by all the commotion. Her voice brings me to my senses, and I snap into action.

“Yes my dear, it will be okay. We have to leave for a trip now.”

I quickly pack a bag of essentials, leaving almost everything behind. Will I ever be back here? I think of the life Sal and I made here. I take one last look at my home, full of the past, then turn to face the future.

Mira is a 6th grader at Clarke Middle School. She loves to read and write, and she enjoyed writing this piece for an English assignment.