Your War, My War

| Chapter V |

The next morning, I woke up early, too accustomed to the orphanage schedule. I laid back in my bed. It was warm and comfortable. It felt odd to be comfortable, as I got used to the lacking beds of the orphanage. The warmth feels soothing against my skin. It makes me want to stay in my spot on the bed. I don't want to leave and let all the warm air escape. 

August, Monday, currently the morning. 

I grabbed my teddy bear from the far corner of my bed. I looked into its eyes, and it looked into mine. 

"Hello," I whispered. I moved its hand as if it was waving. I chuckled. With my hands I gestured, who are you?  The bear answered by moving his hands joyfully in all directions. I nod playfully. I tap my chest and move my head as if I was talking. The bear's head nodded. I smiled and then laid back into my bed. I hugged the bear tightly as I tried to fall back asleep. 

It seemed like a few hours had passed the next time I had woken up. The window in my room was emitting more light from the morning sun. My door was cracked open, and I could hear rustling from outside in the kitchen. A marvelous smell was coming from kitchen. Silently, I closed my door and changed into a working attire: pants, a plain shirt and brown lace-up boots.

I exited my room, closing the door behind me and walking into the kitchen. Father is turned around, cooking on the stove. I stand beside him and wave. 

"Ah, good morning. How did you sleep?" He asks, glancing between the food and my face. I reply with a simple "good."

"Thanks, good."

 "How... was yours?" I ask. 

"Great." He said, smiling. I watched him as a he made breakfast. His hands were strong and large, but do not mistake them for not being gentle and loving. 

We ate breakfast together. Father would explain the day between bites. He explained that nine 'o clock the shop will open. He will be there earlier to start and finish any projects. He had asked if I wanted to assist him, to which I gladly accepted. I was given the task of creating a few stylized chairs, fixing a table, creating picture frames, and looking at an engine. Father said not to worry about the engine because I may not have time to get to it. I nodded at the assigned work. I wanted to do the work; it wasn't a burden to me. Unlike the orphanage, I very much liked this work. I aspired to educate myself on the matter. 

Next to father, was the morning paper. He unraveled it once he had taken a bite of his breakfast. He read through, but then he furrowed his eyebrows, and I became worried. I never read the paper, as anything I knew about the modern world was from someone else's point of view. Someone else's understanding. 

I looked into his eyes until he looked up at mine. He relaxed his face. 

"It's nothing, Bon. Just negativity. The Germans are causing havoc, that's all." He sighed. "Remember, ever conflict happens as a result of a misunderstanding." He looked me in the eye. "Never forget that."

I nodded. 

We put our dishes in the sink. I was preparing to wash the dishes, but father shooed me from the sink. After that was finished, he packed lunch and then we walked to the city. It's not exactly, a city, but it's the most populated area I've ever been in. Father lives in the suburb close by and often walks to his shop. It wasn't too far away either. We started our tread through the open land. The grass tickled my knees, as I walked through it. The grass was a dandy shade of green with sprinkles of daisies. I pick one and study it carefully. I proudly show the daisy to father. He smiles and ruffles my short hair. I had cut my hair. It stopped at my mid neck, just below my ears. It had a texture like father's, a fluffy, curly, messy. The only difference was his hair was a shade darker. My thick bangs fell in front of my face.