A/N this isn't really a proper post, just an idea I had. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!
Dear Diary,
The sun has just rose up behind the clouds. I can tell that this morning is going to be one I won't forget in a hurry. I sigh and hop out of bed, my toes curling in my feet to avoid the cold floor boards as I peer out the window; the sun just a milky dot on the horizon. I notice out of the corner of my eye ma's grave - the sun illuminating its cold stone. Ma. Pa says he can still remember her laughter and twinkling blue eyes. I'm not sure how. Pa has grey and solemn eyes, also never laughs. How someone like ma could have fallen in love with him is beyond me.
I creep out the front door, closing it behind me. The sun is still trying to break through the clouds from the look of it. I make my way through the gnarled old oak trees twisted with age and pale tan from the sun. This is the orchard were ma is buried. I cry a bit now- who wouldn't? - but then tell myself she is in a better place now. I pick some flowers (daisies I think) and place them on her grave then kneel back on my heels. Pa always cries when he talks about her; this woman with browny-blond hair and blue eyes – your eyes he would say looking fondly at them. The twins have blue 'n' grey eyes like they carry a bit of both parents in each; they have both blonde hair straight like pa's grey hair whereas mine is black and messy and curly. I, William Kidd, am 12 years old give or take. The twins are both 7 and irritatingly identical. Then there's pa who's 4o something, who has a grey beard, grey eyes, grey hair, grey suits, shoes and clothes and a constant grey mood. So that's it I suppose; all of us - pa down to me, to the twins and ma of course. Even though she's not with us she's in our hearts. Always.
