My feet hit the cold pavement as I head home from my long shift at the factory. I’ve worked there for years with little pay. Even though I’ve slaved over the mills there since my childhood, I haven’t earned a dime higher pay from when I started. I tried working my way up the company ladder, but to no avail. It’s a hard life, but I really have no choice. If I quit my job, my family and I starve, and if I don’t quit--well, that’s almost a fate just as sufferable. I struggle every day, so when the day is finally over, I feel a sense of joy in my heart, knowing that I can feed my family. This fills me with happiness, except for when the dark thought of knowing that I must return to work tomorrow, fills my mind. I mull all this over as I finally reach the doorstep of my little home. My feet are numb and cracked with cold, so when I walk inside and see a crackling fire at the hearth, I run to it and put my feet as close as I can without burning myself. It takes a while before I can finally feel my feet again, but when I do, they start to burn. Just as they do every night, although I can’t quite explain the feeling. This may be an early sign of insanity, but since it happens nearly every night, I’ve come to expect it as normal.
Just as my feet are returning to normal, my only daughter comes running from the kitchen.
“Daddy daddy! You’re home!”
“Hello sweetheart, how was your day?” I reply in my cracked voice.
“Fun! Mommy showed my how to sew, and I helped her make chicken soup!”
“That’s great, Brenda.”
Brenda runs over to me and plops down by the fire. Her blonde hair shines in the light, and her blue eyes almost pop as she watches it crackle. Her 7 year old frame almost doesn’t fit how bright she is. Sometimes the words that come out of her mouth amaze me. I have never seen a child with such understanding of the world around her.
I can smell the soup as I walk into the kitchen, which is when I finally realize just how hungry I am. I haven’t eaten a crumb all day, and my mouth began water when my wife brings a bowl of it over to where I am sitting.
Sarah greets me with a peck on the cheek. She is a tall, sleek, beautiful woman who stands around 6 feet tall. Her cropped blonde hair shows off her sharp features, and her brown eyes are full of love, although you can see the hardships she has endured from the creases in her face.
“How was your day in the mill?” Sarah asks.
“Same as usual. Low pay, dangerous machines. I’m lucky I haven’t gotten my hand caught.....yet.” I reply.
“So why don’t you just quit?”
“You know why. Sometimes I think that we should just move somewhere else, get a fresh start.”
“Where?”
“I would like to move to New York. It’s full of opportunity, and I hear that they pay much more per work hour than they do here.”
“Remember, there’s always bad things that come along with the good.” She reminded me.
“I know, but I want to take a chance for once in my life.”
“You take them everyday! You go to the mill where you could have your hand cut off in a second.”
“Yes, but this is bigger than that, and I’m very experienced with the mills.”
“Whatever you say... I guess we can pack up and move to New York. I just want you to realize that if this doesn’t work out, we could be put on the streets. Do you really want to risk all of the blessings we have now? We may not be rich, but at least we have a roof over our heads. Think about it Charlie.”
