Personal Narrative Essay: Mother's Armistice Day

The prick of a needle being stabbed into the pasty white fabric rings throughout my ears repeatedly. Every single day at the same time mother would call me to the sewing room to work on household repairs on our curtains and blankets. Though the maids do most of the sewing, mother still thinks that it is necessary for every proper lady to know how to sew. I don’t understand why mother won’t invest in a sewing machine or two. This family certainly has the money for it. Mother just replies that we don’t want to look like we have everything or we don’t want the maids to have it too easy. Personally, I know that she doesn’t trust all these new technological advances sweeping across America. The rose red curtain I’m working on blends in with the gown mother forced me into to the point where I sew the curtain to my dress. I quickly unstitch the thread before mother glances up from her work. I wish I could have just

From this excitement I only knew it was the result of one thing. The war was over. Armistice Day is upon the USA at last. Oh how I wish I could be in the center of New York City as everyone celebrates and cheers. I guess that is the disadvantage of living in the outer skirts.

“Mother, take a look outside! I believe the war has finally come to an end!” I exclaimed to mother.

“Well it’s about time. Now I can finally have my afternoon tea with sugar.” She replied to me without looking up from her stitch work.

“I thought you would be a little more excited. Dad could be coming home!”

“Your father is missing in action and that is that. He was a big shot and a coward.”

“How could you say that? He was a great man until you caused him to dive into an alcohol binge!”

“How dare you! Do not speak to me in that tone! I am your mother! And for the last time, ladies do not raise their voice. You are beginning to sound like a suffragette!”

“But…”

“Now,