She told us we would never return home.
I believed her, why wouldn't I believe her?
She'd taken me far away, further than my
Basic comprehension of geography could fathom.
We were beyond the hills, past any meadows
That I could still recognize as being home.
It was all gone, we were gone, our lives were
Only to become a faint memory, possibly a dream.
The clanking of horse hooves was burnt into my mind,
As the endless journey continued on and on.
Pitter patter, clink clank circled through my ears
Until my mind was emptied of everything except that rhythm.
I looked out from the back of the wagon
Peering past the trees and into far off distance.
Gazing into this unfamiliar world, untouched life,
I gifted myself to the beauty of it all.
I reached into my bag and grabbed a sliver of paper,
Scribbling as best I could in the darkness of night.
Throwing the paper to the soil herself,
It glowed in the light of the effervescent moon.
Amy O'Connor, age 11. April 1848.
Goodbye Virginia, hello California. Be good to us, Ms. Nature.