I may not live to see our glory
I was sitting in my nephew, Philip's room with Eliza. I was holding Philip in my arms, smiling, rocking the chair back and forth. Alexander, my brother, comes in.
"[name], there's a letter for you from South Carolina." He says.
But I will gladly join the fight
"It's from John Laurens, Alex, I'll read it later." You said.
John Laurens was my husband, he had gone off to war not so long ago. Him and myself had missed each other so much, him and I wrote at least one letter a day to each other.
"No it's not." Alex said. My eyes widen.
And when our children tell our story
"W-will you read it?" I ask hesitantly.
They'll tell the story of tonight..
"On Tuesday, the 27th, Lieutenant Cornel John Laurens was killed in a gun fight against British troops in South Carolina." He said. "These troops had not yet received word from Yorktown that the war was over."
As he said these words, tears pricked at my eyes. I stood from my spot, but Alexander wasn't done yet.
"He is buried here until his family can send for his remains." Alex continued. "As you may know, Lieutenant Cornel Laurens was engaged to recruiting 3,000 men for the first all black military regiment."
Eliza had already left the room. She didn't want to interfere with the commotion going on in the room.
"The surviving members of his regiment have been returned to their masters." Alex finished.
Tomorrow they'll be more of us
I stood for quite a while, holding Philip in my arms. Alexander's face as already covered in worry, but it deepened when he saw my face.
"[name], are you alright?"
I walked Philip to his bed, setting him down and tucking him in. He was snoring soundly, like I remember John once did. Tears flowed down my face like a trickling creek.
I walk past my brother, not answering. He turns to me as I walk out the door.
"I have so much work to do." I muttered.
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Bonus
I went home, not caring if I was walked home by Alexander or not. I came up to the door of John and I's house. I went in, to see only haunting memories of him and I. I felt his presence in the room.
I sat down at the dining room table, staring at the walls of paintings. I took a mug from the kitchen, and filled a teapot with water. I set it on the fire I left going when I went to see my brother's family. Once it was done boiling, I put a teabag in the mug, then filling it with the water. I sat back down at the table, stirring the tea. I sobbed, looking at a painting of him.
"R-raise a glass to f-freedom.."
