A Tale of Two, Part 1: Caroline

September 1, 1891

Mother has given this journal to me to record my thoughts in this critical period before I am fully a woman. I love no man, nor have met any for whom I truly care, so I do not see how this will happen anytime soon.

“One must not be so pessimistic,” Mother says. She does not know what it is like to be a woman of seventeen and longing for a companion. How could she? She was married at fifteen to Father.

I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Caroline Smith. I am the oldest of three children in our family. Father is a farmer, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Mother is a homemaker, occasionally working as a seamstress when money is scarce. We are not wealthy people, but we survive.

Lately Mother has been working for a seamstress in London so we can save money to move to America. All her friends have already left for the new world. I fear she is ashamed because she has not the money to go. She may also be ashamed that I still am unwed. But if I were not here, who would there be to care for John and Marie? Father is always busy in the fields. He has not a moment to spare. And with Mother always out to work, I am the only one left. Of course, if John ever decided to grow up, he might be a reasonable candidate for the job. That is if Father did not recruit him to the fields first.

John is a boy of thirteen. He is old enough to work, by Father’s standards, but is too busy drawing and writing to notice much else. I must give him credit for keeping Marie busy while I clean the house. She loves to watch him draw his crazy imagination onto paper.

Marie is only five, but she is an intelligent beauty. Her eyes glow whenever John takes out his charcoal. Mother says she needs to learn stitching soon, but with everyone so busy, I doubt she will.

Father has threatened several times to make them pay for their charcoal and paper; Marie takes a piece of John’s stash and tries to mimic him. I think it is fascinating. Her sketches never come out quite like John’s, but both are beautifully made.

Truly, if I had the choice, I would never marry. Anyone my parents choose would haul me into the city. I am terrified of the city. It is so different from the countryside of my childhood.

Marie and John beckon me to begin supper, so I must leave you for now.