My name is Sarah Greenwood, and I have just turned 13! We live in Boston, by the Boston Harbour. Father is a fisherman, and also a Patriot.
I have older twin sisters named Edith and Elaine, who are both 15, and a younger brother named William.
My best friend is Felicity, she also lives near the Boston Harbour above her shop. This journal was given to me by my grandmother in New Bern, North Carolina the last time we visited her over the Holidays. She was very sick then, and died soon after our visit. I hope to keep this journal in memory of her and write in it.
February 1770:

Tension is in the air. Boston used to be bustling and a happy town. Now, it is a sad and mopey town, as if there was a sleeping spell over it.
Mother will hardly let me out as much with Edith or Elaine. William is getting restless staying inside too much. I want to see my friends. I want to see Felicity.
Father is a Patriot. Meaning he is fighting for America. Father’s best pal, Arran turned traitor and became a loyalist. They got into a loathsome row, and now he won’t talk at all. Father says that he’s lost his mind. The British did this. The British did that.
Why must it be this way? Why can’t we all live in peace independently. Alone. It’s my wish, so that everyone in America can be happy again.
Of course I admit that we do owe something to Britain for them fighting off the French, but we already give them our most valuable crops, and harvests. And fish of course! We also follow our own colony rules.
Isn’t that enough? Isn’t that enough to fulfill and satisfy Britain? But I suppose King George isn’t.
Sometimes Father and Mother argue. They stay up, and talk in hushed voices. William comes into my room, and we both stand by the stairway, listening to what we can hear.
Elaine and Edith sometimes stay up with us. At 15, Elaine has a beau. He’s in the army right now but she’s always writing. Always. Never ending letters pour into her room and she answers every one.
When will this war end? It’s all over something very childish, and immature. It’s foolishness, and troublesome. When will this world be at peace again?
March 5th, 1770

Mother is finally going to let me out today! William and I are going to town to buy and purchase some produce, because we were running low on products.
Elaine and Edith are doing embroidery, so William and I are now off. I hope that Felicity is there, so that maybe we could talk.

When I came back... There was a riot. A group of Patriots were provoking British soldiers protecting a building in Boston. William and I quickly ran away, and bought our food. By the time we came back, it was worse. People were throwing rocks, taunting and daring the soldiers to shoot the gun.
Then a gun shot out. I grabbed William’s hand, and ran for my life. Dropping eggs along the way. Something hit my shoulder, and I fell to the ground into a dark alley.
“Sarah!” William cried, running to my side.
“Run!” I shouted. “Run home, I’ll come back, I promise.”
My arm was searing with pain, and I sucked in another breath.
“But..” he protested looking at my pain-stricken face.
“Run!” I told him fiercely.
He picked up the basket of food, and then with his small arms he ran. He looked back once before he crossed through the battle, running his head ducked, as he safely made it to the other side.
I closed my eyes in pain, and lifted up the sleeve on my arm, and saw blood. I wiped it away with my apron, staining the snow white fabric. A rock was thrown at my arm, and it had made a gash. I thought I was going to die here like this, but I couldn’t. I had promised William I would come home.
I looked out from behind an empty crate. The fighting was still continuing. I saw people fall to the ground. I ducked my head behind the crate and closed my eyes.
Moments later, someone else ran in. I had looked up fearfully, hoping it was not a Red coat.
My wishes never come true. It was a British soldier. I sucked in a breath of fear, hoping he wouldn’t notice me. He noticed me anyway.
“You all right young lady?” he asked.
I was much too frightened to answer him back. He smiled his blue eyes glinting.
“I won’t so much as hurt you.”
“Then what are you doing here?” I bursted. “Shouldn’t you be out there fighting for Britain?”
He shrugged, his gun on his shoulder. “We’re just here on Britain’s orders, and besides that,” he sighed, “we can’t go back. Britain’s too poor to send us back.”
I thought that was weird at the moment.
“But that means that the Quartering Act, it’s not real? I mean it’s not like needed?”
He shook his head. “No. When they sent in British Troops, they recruited everyone they could find. I’m only 16. My friend’s brother, he’s 13. He was sent here too.” He looked back down.
“Well then, what’s your name?” he asked, smiling.
“Sarah.”
“Just Sarah?”
“NO! It’s Sarah Greenwood!”
“I see. Then I am Carter Matthews.”
“Aahhhuuuuuccchhhh!” I screamed, as I accidentally brushed my raw arm against the splintered wood.
Carter looked at me, terrified. “What’s wrong?”
“My arm...” I managed, to say, my arm tormenting me.
He looked out towards the battle, than back into the alley. “I wonder...... of course!” he turned back to me, and scooped me up in one arm.
“What are you...?”
He didn’t answer but he ran into the dark alley, carefully making his way into the dark, carefully not tripping over anything.
“How do you know where to...?”
“I’ve been here for 2 years now. I know the ins-and outs of this place.”
I blushed furiously. Carter looked down at me.
“You okay there Miss Sarah?”
I nodded, the pain had died down now. I looked up again, out toward the never ending darkness, and then saw some light.
He carried me to my home, and my mother cried when she saw me. Carter put me down carefully, as she hugged me tight. So tight I couldn’t breathe. She hugged Carter too, even though she clearly saw he was a Red Coat. She offered him a place to stay tonight, and he gladly excepted. William came out, his face tear stricken. He hugged me tightly.
“You didn’t break your promise.” he sighed happily.
Elaine and Edith ran out, and both embraced me.
“You bad girl, having such a handsome British man carry you!” they teased.
Carter treated my wounds, I cringed sometimes, but he wrapped it in bandages.
“Make sure you keep this on for a long time.”
I nodded carefully.
We quickly ate supper after that, which was boiled potatoes and fried fish in thanks that I was still alive, and that Carter had saved me. I went to bed soon after that.
March 12th, 1770

I was told later here, that this battle, was not a battle, but a massacre. Such a strong word during these times. Massacre. Carter eventually left, but not without saying goodbye.
“Thank you.” I said, as I escorted him out to town.
“You’re welcome.”
I waved him goodbye in front of the Boston building. Inside my heart, I had promised. I won’t forget you. I won’t forget you at all.
December 24th, 1772

It’s Christmas Eve, but Father isn’t here tonight. He’s at a secret town meeting. They are planning something and I know it’s not good. It never is good. Mother is starting to become paranoid about letting us out. Even though it’s been 2 years, she’s still scared. The scar from the rock is still there. Sometimes it hurts, sometimes it doesn’t.
December 14th, 1773

I’m 16 now, so father let Elaine, Edith and I into a little secret to be kept from our
mother. Father is going to participate in a riot.
“You won’t get killed, right father?” Edith asks.
“No, they won’t know who we are,” he comes closer, and whispers into our ears.
“We’re going to be dressing up as Indians.”
“Father!” I protest. “That’s not nice to the Indians! What if they get blamed?”
He ponders, then gets mad at me. “Do you want us to be independent or not?”
Truthfully, I really don’t know. But dumping all their tea just seems cruel. It just does.
December 16th, 1773

Tonight is the night. Elaine has decided to stay home, answering her beau’s letters, but Edith, Felicity, and I all go. We go up to the top of Felicity’s roof, and watch from there. A clear view of what they are going to do.
Inside of my heart, I am confused. I am an American, I know that but still... What we’re doing to them just seems unfair. Maybe I have just been influenced by Carter. I don’t know. Confusion fills my heart. If I tell anyone about these feelings, than I will most likely be sent to prison.
America is America, but I think we have just gone too far.
It has started. I see all these men walk out behind the fisherman’s building, and aboard the British ship. They all have feathers in their hair. How strange. But of course, they are trying to dress up as Indians. They start shouting, and before I know it, tea is being dumped into the ocean. What a waste of tea. It’s terrible. The once clear, moonlit water, is not turning into a pile of green gunk. A strong smell of tea comes up.
“I’m going.” I announce, standing up.
“Why?” Felicity asks, her eyes glued to the event.
I make up an excuse. “My arm, it’s acting up, starting to hurt.”
Edith nods. “I’ll be back.”
I go down the stairs, and run back lifting my skirt to run faster.
I want to get away from all those screams. I want to be away. It’s just wrong what we’re doing.
I bang into someone, slip than fall into their arms.
“Watch where you’re going, Sarah Greenwood, or you’ll end up hurting that other arm of yours.”
I could recognize that voice anywhere. Carter’s.
Looking up, I saw him again. It had been 3 years but I hadn’t forgotten a thing.
“Carter, it’s a pleasure to see you again!” I said happily. “I thought you would have forgotten us.”
“I could never forget you.” he murmured.
I blushed deeply.
“Well, I uh... have to get going. Riot down at the harbour.”
I nod. “Please be careful.”
“Will do Sarah Greenwood.” He salutes to me, than marches off.
I think now, the British are very angry. All that tea is such a waste.
August 23rd, 1774

We have been living under the Intolerable Acts for a while now. I knew something would happen. The British have become so angry, they have passed a new series of laws over.
1st Act: Boston Harbour shall be closed until the damage has been paid for. No supplies will be sent out, or sent in.
2nd Act: Town Meetings are henceforth banned.
3rd Act: British soldiers accussed of manslaughter, shall be tried in England, not in the 13 Colonies.
4th Act: More British Troops shall be sent to America to enforce these new laws.
We’ve been suffering. Everyone has. I am tired of all of this. Patriots are helping each other but that doesn’t help that much. Pretty soon, we are all going to run out of food supplies sooner or later. I am 19 now. I should have been courted a very long time ago, but Mother doesn’t want me to. There is no one for me to be courted to.
Father is more irritated than usual. With town meetings banned, there is nothing for the Patriots to do. There are many Loyalists who have thought that Boston has gone too far. In heart, I am one of those people, but my family and everyone else in Boston are Patriots.
Please god. Dear god, please help my heart decide.
April 18th, 1775

Father is going to be sent to war. Mother was in tears. We are in war! War I tell you. At these times, I do not know what to think anymore. My heart is torn in two. Should I be more worried about Father, or my only love Carter?
They are both on opposite sides. I do now know what to do anymore.
William is 10 now, and understands what’s going on.
“Will he die?”
“He might.” I reply.
William looks out the doorway, waving to our father as he leaves for the army. This war is so important to him. Mother is in a state of depression. Elaine and Edith are both now 20. Elaine’s beau came back for a short while. They both got married, but then he had to leave again. Elaine is now with child.
Edith frankly, doesn’t really care much. I asked her what she was to do now, and she said, that maybe when the war was over, she would become a teacher.
June 14th, 1775

Father has sent us a letter today in the mail. He is safe, and he says that they have won their first battle. They only lost around 50 people. That may seem to be alot to you, he wrote, but it is not bad, but fairly good. The next battle he is going to participate in is in 3 days time. He misses us, but he wants us to remember that he is doing something good for America.
I ponder over that. If it was good for America, than he wouldn’t have participated in the Boston Tea Party. I am scared for the future. The future is scary, as we don’t know if Father will die today, tomorrow, or will survive.
July 8th, 1776

Everyone in town is rejoicing. The Declaration of Independence has been approved, thus seperating us from British rule. There is to be parties, and music festivities all night long. Elaine is upset about this.
“Poor Colin must get his sleep!” she cries out in fustration, as she tries to get her son to sleep.
Should I too be upset, or should I be happy?
September 15th, 1776

Father has died. He was killed in the Battle of Long Island, along with 300 other men. It was the British Victory. Mother is crying, and has locked her room so no one can enter. Only Elaine.
“I’m going in. Take care of Colin for me.”
Edith cries. William doesn’t cry, but instead sits on the bed, looking down into his hands.
I on the other hand, have no emotion. What kind of daughter am I? Not crying about her own father’s death. Although this has been a shock. I wonder how all the other people cope with this.
Novembor 19th, 1778

I don’t know what to do anymore. Felicity and I walk down the deserted town of Boston together, and sit on the beach.
“Will it ever be the same again?” she wonders aloud.
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“It just doesn’t seem to be.”
“True.”
Then she stands up, and walks down to the water, and stands in the middle, her dress soaked.
Felicity lifts her hands out on the air, the wind running through her brown hair.
“I WISH THE WAR WOULD END!” she shouts really loudly, at the ocean.
Even though we are both 23, we can’t help but have childish thoughts. I join her out there in the ocean.
“You make a wish too.”
I lift my hands out, the salt spray staining my skin.
“I wish that everything I ever loved, and had would return back to me.” I silently pray, my head lifted toward the setting sun.
August 23rd, 1780

Today we are celebrating my 23rd birthday. How ironic isn’t it, that I am 23, and my birthday is on the 23rd. Mother made me a small cake, since flour is scarce. William made a desk, with a chair for me. Elaine made a wreath of daisies for me with mint leaves adding a green background.
Edith had made a sketchbook for me, bound with leather.
“Happy Birthday.” Colin said, as he gave me a rose.
I smiled.
“Thank you Colin!”
I lift my nephew into my lap, as he plays around with his toy.
“He looks a lot like Doyle.” Edith comments.
“He does, doesn’t he.” Elaine smiled, turning away from cooking.
Mother came down the stairs. “Your present is ready.”
I walked up, and into my room, and behold. A beautiful gown, rhinestones lined up against the sky blue cloth.
“It’s beautiful Mother, thank you.”
She hugged me tightly. “Happy Birthday, dear.”
January 19th, 1782

I have been so busy, I can’t believe I have not written for over 2 years. It’s amazing how time flies so quickly. Anyhow, William and I made a surprise for Mother. We had Elaine, Edith, Colin and Mother go on a trip for Mother’s birthday. She had asked why we weren’t coming, and we replied because this is our early birthday presents to all of you.
But really, we were renovating our house. In the family, William and I are the strongest, so we put it at that.
“But you will owe us, sometime in the future.” William told Elaine and Edith.
“We know! I mean shopping, and glorious things! I can’t wait!”
Our house was very cramped, and had only 3 rooms. Elaine and Edith in one room, William and I in one room, and Father in one room. But since Colin was born, things have gotten out of hand.
We are adding another room on the left side of our house for Elaine and Colin, and another very large room for mother, so that I can have mother’s room.
“Brilliant!” William had told me, when I told him what we should do.
Since William was now 17, he could handle saws, and cut wood a lot better when he was ten. He cut down trees from the forest in the back of our house, and sanded it to perfection. In 2 weeks, we had finished. Even the furniture. We met Mother at the edge of New Hampshire, and blindfolded her as we rode the carriage. At the house, Mother was over-joyed as she looked at her new room. Elaine screamed with joy, hugging William and I, and spinning around, tossing Colin in the air. Edith was happy too.
“Now I don’t have a hogging sister in my room, and my nephew.”
The day was happy, and I believe it made up for the happiness we lost when Father died.
September 17th, 1783

The war is over. I can’t believe it. It’s over. Finally. The day before Felicity had come, running, out of breath as she hand delivered one paper to our house. She collapsed onto one of the chairs, as I went to go fetch her some water.
“What is it?” I asked, as she gulped down the water.
“The war,” she said, taking another breath, “is over.”
“What?!” I jump almost a thousand feet back in astonishment.
She smiled breathlessly, tears in her eyes. “It’s over. The Treaty of Paris, the one they’ve been talking about since April? It’s been signed! The war, it’s over.”
I sit down, waiting for a moment, letting this all sink in. We were finally free, my heart leapt with joy, and I called for William, and told him the news. He too was exasperated and he and I danced around the living room. Mother asked what we were doing, and we told her the news. She cried with joy, dabbing her eyes with her apron.
“His death was worthwhile.” she sighed, smiling.
Everyone in town that day rejoiced, with lights in the air, gatherings, and dances as we happily embraced the coming of Independence. Finally we had been freed.
December 14th, 1788


It’s been 5 years. Life has been peaceful. I have been married to my childhood love, Carter Smith and I have a daughter Abigail. I would never want Abby to experience what I had to. Carter agrees, since he went to war and came back alright.
Mother died the year after we received Independence, but we weren’t all that sad. She had missed Father so much, we felt happy for her.
This is the last page in my journal, but I feel that grandmother is happy about the amount I have written, I mean there is so much.
Sometimes I go out, by myself, and look across the water. Father used to love the ocean, the salt spray reminds me so much of him. I miss everyone, but I think that things have turned out for the best. Thank you, Mother, Father, Grandmother, Grandfather, Edith, Elaine, Colin, William, Carter, and most of all Desmond. But now I must go, Abby is probably getting hungry. Thank you.

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 20.10.2011

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