Clad in uniform, a man unknown walks up to the families home. He gentely knocks on the door and a beautiful young woman who looked to be in her early 30's answered the door. At the sight of the man her face turned from a bright cheery rosy pink to a white pale of the ghost and she couldn't seem to find her breathe enough to find her voice. ' your daughter fought long and hard for her country and you should be proud.' the man whispered too afraid to be too loud. ' she was on her way to the airport on christmas eve to come home on christmas even if it would be for just one day. She loved her family but she knew her country needed her and she was willing and more to leave her family once again and go to war.' The woman couldn't stand anymore, she fell limp, her body laying in a weepin heep on the floor. AS tears fell down her cheeks she remembered how she had argued with her daughter, telling her she wouldn't allow it, her daughter just looked at her with the stuborness she had always had amd only one word that she spoke let her know that with or withouther mothers aproval she was determined to go. The woman found her strength and stood to look the man in the eyes. ' my daughter was strong and smart, and even though i didn't want her to go i knew she was right. Before she left she said one word and i understood why she felt she had to fight. She held me tight and whispered in my ear, 'Freedom'.' years passed and the woman died soon after her daughters funeral but in their town the girl was a hero, not because she fought but because she died for the one thing she would have died with uot, she died for freedom.
by cynthia Routen