It was a warm and sunny day in July, Alfred Jones, personification of America, sat on his porch swing looking out at his backyard with an unreadable expression on his face. In his hands lay a sleek brown acoustic guitar, one of which looked like it has never been used. He kept glancing down at it, the unreadable expression, becoming one of a war torn hero, with sadness lacing his smile. His mind drifted to times of old, when he and his brother were separated, his older brother, Matthew Williams, the personification of Canada, went with Francis Bonnefoy, the personification of France, and he went with Arthur Kirkland, the personification of England. He thought of all the wars he fought, the Revolutionary War against England, the War of 1812 against England, the Civil War against himself, Allen Jones, World War I against Germany, Austria-Hungary, Ottoman Empire and Bulgaria, World War II against the Axis Powers, the Cold War against the Soviet Union, the Korean War against North Korea, China and the Soviet Union, the Vietnam War against North Vietnam, Viet Cong, Khmer Rouge, Pathet Lao and China, the War on Terror. Alfred has been through so much, he's only so young. Many of the older Nations must envy him for his naivety, for how innocent he is. Truth is he envies them, to be strong and smart. He looked up at the setting sun, the sad smile still on his face as he reached up to fix his glasses, Texas, as he calls them. He had a meeting in the morning, but for now, he just wanted to watch the sun in peace from his home. He began to absentmindedly strum his guitar, playing a tune to get his mind off of the past. He just hoped he wouldn't get yelled at tomorrow, God only knows what other Nations thought of him. So tonight he was just gonna sit and maybe, just maybe he could see her in the wind, his mother, who was long passed.
"The world is a cruel place isn't it" Alfred said to himself, as a warm breeze passed, and only to him did it feel like hands were wrapping around him "Unitsi (Cherokee for Mother) thank you"
