And To Honor the Mothers…

fromskilledhands — Sun, 07 Jun 2009 18:24:55 +0000

I have written that my mother-in-law was an English war bride who came to this country after WWII. During the war, she worked in a factory, making gun sights. Fear, she says, wasn’t an option. Survival was the only choice.

Memories are shared: hiding under the dining room table during air raids, riding her bicycle home from the factory at night in the dark—no lights allowed during the blackout, the scream of bombs—listening for the the drones since no one ever knew where they’d land. When the air raid sirens sounded when she was at work, my mother-in-law had to run across an open field to the shelter, hearing bullets hit the metal roofs of the buildings and the train tracks that were like beacons in the moonlight. My mother-in-law remembers her father being a member of the Home Guard, his rake and hoe his weapons. She recalls that the English never would have been able to defend their land if the Americans hadn’t been involved in the War.

A young girl named Rose was placed with my mother-in-law’s family, a safe haven from the industrial city where she lived. The child wouldn’t sleep in a bed at first; she’d sleep on the floor. She hadn’t been bathed in a very long time and was fearful of the tub. It took quite a long time for Rose to feel safe with my mother-in-law’s family. One day,during a lull in the bombing, a woman came to the door. It was Rose’s mother. She had come to claim her daughter and take her back to the city. Shortly thereafter, the bombing resumed. The road on which Rose and her mother lived was destroyed. There were no survivors.

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From Skilled Hands » war bride

And To Honor the Mothers…