My westward journal #2

Dear journal,

This morning my father, mother, and myself left for Independence. In my schoolbag, I have brought a notepad (the one I’m writing in right now), a pencil, a small mirror, a bunch of hair ribbons, and two small hairbrushes. I haven’t a clue on what my parents have brought, but I know it’s minimal. Once we got to Independence, my father bought a wagon and oxen team of four. We hitched the oxen team to the wagon and loaded our things into the wagon. Before we took off with a group of people we became friends with, I looked around the town. The buildings didn’t look very sturdy, like they were going to collapse any minute. The road was dirt and every time someone walked along it, they kicked up little puffs of dust. I feel weird in this town. Different. And I don’t know why. Before long, we fed and watered the oxen and took off with our little wagon train into the unknown. I’m not expecting anything good to come of this trip. But, I do have a new friend! He’s my age and his name is Jasper. He’s a good friend too and he’s funny.

Maggie, 9 years old


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