by Melisa<\/p>\n\n\n\n
January 1st, 1845
\nDear Diary,
\nIt\u2019s a wonderful winter day on my humble farm. Some black-masked beige-and-gray birds have flocked to the trees outside the chicken enclosure for the winter. My farmland is completely separate from my husband\u2019s. It provides a home for fifty beautiful white hens and hundreds of tasty eggs. My farm is quite small, so I can\u2019t raise any other types of animals, but when my farm grows, I\u2019m thinking of raising some cattle there too. However, I\u2019m feeling a bit\u2026 uneasy. It\u2019s almost like a feeling of impending doom. I don\u2019t know why or how this feeling started, but I bet it\u2019ll pass later.
\n\nApril 16th, 1846.
\n\nOh God. It\u2019s happening. A war has started between Mexico and America, and the love of my life is serving in it as a soldier. I really, hope he makes it out unharmed; he\u2019s the only person I\u2019ve ever fallen in love with in my entire life. If he dies, I feel like I would never be able to move on from that tragic moment. I can hear the loud banging of gunshots from a nearby field. The roaring of the cannon balls. The screaming. Everything is falling apart and I can hear it all with my own two ears. I try to plug them with my fingers, but it\u2019s no use. I can still hear every single thing. In a state of pure distress, I run to one of my beloved chickens and hold it tight in my arms. Tears roll down my cheek. Soft, quiet sobs turn to loud ones. Loud sobs turn to wailing. Why must this happen to the one person who cares about me? The one who comforted me in times of need? Why, why, WHY!?
\n\nMay 5th, 1846
\n\nI have received the news. My husband\u2026 is dead. I\u2019m so shocked that I can\u2019t even speak. My one and only true love is now gone forever. Remember all those times we kissed? They\u2019re all in the past now; my husband is dead. What about those wonderful nights where we feasted on delicious corn, chile, and beans? They’re all in the past now; my husband is dead. Hugs? Nope. He\u2019s dead. Sometimes I wish that I could dig up his lifeless body and give it one last embrace.
\n\nSeptember 19th, 1848
\n\nIt\u2019s been a few months since the war finally came to an end, and things aren\u2019t looking good from here. None of the lawyers, tax collectors, or the judges here speak my language. They all only speak in English. Also, my property has been merged with my husband’s, since I\u2019m a woman. Under new American law, women can\u2019t own land which is separate from their husband\u2019s, and honestly, that really sucks. How come men can own their own land while women just can\u2019t? It all makes absolutely no sense! Another completely ridiculous thing is the introduction of slavery. Before the Americans took over my country, slavery was outlawed entirely. Now, it\u2019s everywhere. People here are forcing Africans to work against their will for no pay. And guess what? It\u2019s allowed! Most Americans see them as some sort of \u201clesser race\u201d and think that they should be treated as such. It\u2019s stupidly unfair. I really wish I could get my country back under Mexican control. Things were so much better back then.\n<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
by Melisa January 1st, 1845 Dear Diary, It\u2019s a wonderful winter day on my humble farm. Some black-masked beige-and-gray birds have flocked to the trees outside the chicken enclosure for the winter. My farmland is completely separate from my husband\u2019s. It provides a home for fifty beautiful white hens and hundreds of tasty eggs. My […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-194","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/wellbewriteback.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/194","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/wellbewriteback.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/wellbewriteback.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wellbewriteback.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wellbewriteback.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=194"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/wellbewriteback.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/194\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":195,"href":"https:\/\/wellbewriteback.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/194\/revisions\/195"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/wellbewriteback.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=194"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}