My hands are shaking as I sit at Blake's table, holding a small journal that I brought with me from Tuckaleechee Cove. Mama made it for me. She tried to show me how to make one for myself but I fear that effort on her part was wasted. My hands are shaking from the excess of emotion that faces me daily right now. I try to fill my time with productive activities, but sometimes the loss of all that I love makes it impossible to do anything but cry!
The journey from Tuckaleechee Cove to Astoria, Oregon has not turned out at all as I thought that it should. In my imaginings I expected to now be living in a small acreage in Astoria. My husband would be with me. His family would live close in a home of their own. I would have parents in-law, a husband, and a beautiful younger brother-in law, who was truly my brother.
Instead, my entire family is dead, I lost the new life that Tom and I had begun in love, and I have no idea where Tom is? He could be dead in some Eastern state, fighting for his conviction that the Union army has a just cause and are fighting for family, faith, and friends.
The acreage that we sold our lovely farm in Tuckaleechee Cove to purchase is non-existent. We were defrauded. J.P. Fowler is a terrible person, benefiting from the sorrows of others. I have to pray hard to keep from wanting to find him and simply shoot him. I am a crack shot. My beloved Papa insisted that it was necessary for women to be able to defend themselves. My Mama joined us many times as we shot at targets, or hunted for game. She was also a perfect marksman...I mean...markswoman. She always had a holster on her thigh. She carried her pistol with her everywhere. Now I carry it with ME everywhere.
At the same time I gain comfort in the knowledge that Mama and Papa still live on, just in a spiritual sense, not a physical sense. They are eternal now, and we will be together again, and I will also be with my beloved in-laws, our baby, and perhaps Tom as well. (Maybe he is still alive...oh how I pray that is true).
I need to think about something a little more shallow. I believe that it's very helpful to write in a personal journal. It helps me to process the experiences I face in life. Papa and Mama taught me to think as though everything in life depends on the me, and then pray as though everything depends on the good Lord. They helped me to learn how to be a good team with my beloved God. They also faced the hard things in life as adventure helping them to achieve growth.
Let's see, a shallow topic. Blake has not shaved in about a week. I'm not certain that I like the way he looks with a beard. Some men look better with a beard. For example, our dear President, Abraham Lincoln. The beard covers some of the ruggedness of his face. It seems to make him look more dignified and intelligent. He looks like a President should look.
Blake has been marvelous. He helped save my life in the crossing. Since I had no place to go, and no money to go there, he took me in to his two bedroom cabin. He has been nothing but a gentleman. If I weren't a married woman, I would find him attractive in form and face, and faith. Oh goodness, I must not let my thoughts stray in that direction. Until I know otherwise, I AM A MARRIED WOMAN!
Since I have lived here, I have met many of the people in this tiny town called Calkington. There is not another white woman in town that I could live with. There is nothing in Tuckaleechee Cove for me to return to, and I don't have any money to return. Oh goodness, my thoughts do seem to run in a circle today.
Ooops, I just noticed Blake's large clock on the wall that says that it's past time for me to start dinner. More later dear diary.
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