We can seek and make unlikely friends and associations when our spirit needs them. Perhaps in this time of being more distant with friends and family, you have done the same. Maybe you talk to your dog or cat more. Perhaps you chat with your plants; I do. 🙂 Whatever the case, the point is that we all need company. No person can tolerate isolation, and we make the best of what we have. Often times, we see more because of trying circumstances.
In this segment of my upcoming novel, Silver Moon, my character, Oshki, is on break from his tour in the trenches during WWI. He misses home and his family and makes an unlikely friend, who lifts his spirits. Read Oshki’s journal entry below.
January 10th, 1917
This is my last day at the rest camp. The weather is cold but not bitterly so. I like to spend as much time out of doors as I can. The open space frees me.
There is so little in the trenches. I must enjoy it while I can.
I’ve made a friend while I’m here, not the human kind. He is a bird. A meadow pipit. He has olive-brown coloring with darker, barred wings edged in white and a creamy white breast. I saw him on top of a thistle digging for seeds. I roam the outskirts of the camp every day. One spot in the northern corner hosts a few dried, wild plants spreading from the grassy meadow beyond.
I’ve made a spot there to write in the afternoon. It is a small corner of relative quiet away from it all. Every time I am in my spot writing, Frank (that’s what I call my bird friend) comes and lands on the thistle closest to me. I hold as still as possible and watch him.
Today he actually landed on my arm. Well, I lured him a bit by placing a few seeds on my left forearm in hopes that he would risk the contact. He did. Frank chirps and chirps. His thin orange/brown beak opens and closes as if calling to someone. Perhaps he calls to his lover. Off he flies now. I’m jealous.
I wish the call of my heart would reach Mauve over the miles. I finger Pearl’s downy scrap of hair, which I keep over my heart. It’s soft, and I imagine it feels like the fluffy feathers of my little friend. I’m way past being tired of this war. I hate soldering, but it has become what I do . . . what I am.
I sicken with longing for my family and my land. I know I have a family here of sorts, and I’m grateful for the men who fight beside me, but it is not home.
As much as I detest the trenches, I am ready to go back. I am antsy to keep plugging away in the hopes that doing my job will eventually bring about the end of this conflict. God, please let it be so.
I watch as a few flakes of snow start to fall. My friend spreads his wings and flits away. I will put away my pen and journal and do likewise.
Thanks for reading!
I hope this excerpt encourages you to look for the little gifts of friendship, where you might not have looked before.
Paperback releases on June 30th.