Myshuno Prompt #5: Being a soldier's wife
Prompt: Being a soldier’s wife (regacylady)
Characters: Unnamed female member of generation 7
Rating: PG for subject matter
Summary: Just a typical day when you’re husband’s at war.
Notes: Canon. Possible spoilers, but you should know this stuff is coming.
Word Count: 426
She woke up at about six each morning, when the baby began to fuss. After a diaper change and a morning feeding, she made the bed, took a quick bath, and got ready for the day. She tried not to worry about whether he was warm enough as he slept last night, or if the fighting had even lulled enough to allow him to do so.
After breakfast, she put a hat on to protect her skin from the sun as she tended the victory garden. As she pulled the weeds from the tomatoes and watered the cucumbers, she did her best not to wonder if he was getting enough food, and if the military rations were really as bad as everyone said.
When the newspaper came she read the headlines and the stories, often stopping to look at the atlas of SimEurope she’d purchased so she would know exactly where all those strange towns were and how far apart they were from one another. She tried to figure out exactly where he’d been from clues in his letters, since the army censored any mention of names.
That afternoon, at the Red Cross meeting, she chatted with the other ladies present, and tried not to be resentful of those whose husbands were not on the front lines, knowing that they were doing jobs just as important to the war effort. She looked with sympathy on the younger woman who had already gotten one of the dreaded telegrams, and said a silent prayer that her husband was still safe.
At dinner, she tried and failed to ignore the empty chair where he should have been sitting. Dinner was always the worst time, when his gaping absence was so hard to ignore.
After bathing the baby and getting the little one settled for the night, she settled down at her desk to write him a letter, as she always did. The letter was filled with anecdotes about the goings on in town, how the new lilac bushes she’d planted in front of the house were doing, and how their child had started eating solid foods. She did her best to forget that it had been more than a week since she’d gotten a letter in return.
As she crawled into bed that night, she said a prayer that the war would end soon, that he would come home safe, and that the nightmares would stay away for one more night, so she would have the strength to get up the next day and do it all over again.
Characters: Unnamed female member of generation 7
Rating: PG for subject matter
Summary: Just a typical day when you’re husband’s at war.
Notes: Canon. Possible spoilers, but you should know this stuff is coming.
Word Count: 426
She woke up at about six each morning, when the baby began to fuss. After a diaper change and a morning feeding, she made the bed, took a quick bath, and got ready for the day. She tried not to worry about whether he was warm enough as he slept last night, or if the fighting had even lulled enough to allow him to do so.
After breakfast, she put a hat on to protect her skin from the sun as she tended the victory garden. As she pulled the weeds from the tomatoes and watered the cucumbers, she did her best not to wonder if he was getting enough food, and if the military rations were really as bad as everyone said.
When the newspaper came she read the headlines and the stories, often stopping to look at the atlas of SimEurope she’d purchased so she would know exactly where all those strange towns were and how far apart they were from one another. She tried to figure out exactly where he’d been from clues in his letters, since the army censored any mention of names.
That afternoon, at the Red Cross meeting, she chatted with the other ladies present, and tried not to be resentful of those whose husbands were not on the front lines, knowing that they were doing jobs just as important to the war effort. She looked with sympathy on the younger woman who had already gotten one of the dreaded telegrams, and said a silent prayer that her husband was still safe.
At dinner, she tried and failed to ignore the empty chair where he should have been sitting. Dinner was always the worst time, when his gaping absence was so hard to ignore.
After bathing the baby and getting the little one settled for the night, she settled down at her desk to write him a letter, as she always did. The letter was filled with anecdotes about the goings on in town, how the new lilac bushes she’d planted in front of the house were doing, and how their child had started eating solid foods. She did her best to forget that it had been more than a week since she’d gotten a letter in return.
As she crawled into bed that night, she said a prayer that the war would end soon, that he would come home safe, and that the nightmares would stay away for one more night, so she would have the strength to get up the next day and do it all over again.