Thee secret I cannot tell

Waffles and strawberries

Today is August, my birthday month. I'll be eight, I am very excited for my party, Only because my brother won't be there. I do not like him very much. I have fourteen days until my birthday, I hope my brother Joseph won't be mean again.

"Lucy, baby! Come down for breakfast!" I heard my mother, Jean, call out from downstairs. Oh how I loved breakfast, it was my favorite time of the day. "Coming mummy!" I shouted as I put my journal my father had gotten me before he went away to fight in the war, my mother told me not to worry about him, but I worry a lot for my youthful age, so I often write in that journal a lot! I hope he can somehow hear the words I write and know the truth of me like I'm glass, not plastic. "Lucy, come on now darling!" My mother called out again. "I'm coming!" I shouted as I ran down the stairs, my light platinum blonde hair bounced as I wobbled down the spruce old stairs. I wore my new white and dark blue dress, along with my play shoes mother let me get dirty in.

"What did you make mummy?" I asked my mother with my small and bright smile. "I made your favorite. Waffles and strawberries!" My mother smiled at me warmly, she put the flower themed plate down at the table as she put me on a stool to sit. I looked at the freshly picked strawberries on my waffles, drizzled with syrup. Gee it looked fantastic! "Thank you mummy!" I said as I held my small pink fork in my hand and put a small piece of waffle in my mouth, enjoying the delightful, and savory of strawberry, syrup, and waffle in my mouth, Pleasuring my taste buds. "How about you go wake up your big brother after breakfast?" my mother said as she stroked my hair. I looked down, upset. I didn't like my brother, I didn't want to be alone with him. "No mummy..I don't want to." I said in a pout. "Oh why not Lucy? He works hard and deserves some breakfast." My mother explained to me as I pouted, shook my head, and looked down. A frown was plastered on my face, something was deeply troubling me, but my mother did not notice. "Oh alright my dear, but you have to at least finish off your strawberries for mummy, okay?" My mother said as she kissed my forehead and went upstairs to wake my brother, her two, maybe three inch high heels clacked across the floorboards and headed up the stairs.

I looked back at my plate, finishing off my strawberries before I shoved another piece of my waffle in my mouth, trying to enjoy the comfort of my mother cooking. She was a good mummy, just blinded by her idea of being a perfect family. She loves me, but doesn't like me as a person. I sighed to myself as I kicked my feet together, the shiny new play shoes my mother had bought me squeaked against each other, making an irritating noise. I heard my mother wake up my older brother, so I finished off the food on my plate, slid myself off the stool I had sat on, and squeezed myself through the dog door, since I was too small to reach the door handle to the garden outside from the cottage I lived in.