The Silence of Loneliness
The day came early, the rooster waking me with his call. I rolled out of bed, rubbed the sleep from my eyes, and headed down to the kitchen. It was a lonely time as I sat down at the table, the other chair, the empty chair, at the edge of my vision as I ate. I let a smile creep across my face, for though it was lonely, it was a loneliness filled with pride.
My gaze wandered to the rifle standing by the door and rested on it for a moment. I felt a small pang of sorrow, though it was quickly replaced by pride once more. I would have gone as well to help the cause of the South, but with the other half of my soul in the grave, only I was left to care for our home.
Done with my food, I tidied up the table before stepping outside. My tractor greeted me as I passed it, the new, red paint glinting in the yellow light of the rising sun. The pigs were still sound asleep, barely even stirring as I refilled their trough. I then glanced up at the clear, blue sky and determined that it was a great d