Picture Perfect 3- Test Grade

The days begin young, and eventually grow old like the helpless beings that live them.  Day after meaningless day, she waits on her front porch, she waits for him to return home. His love never comes back to her, it was spent in those endless days in the explosive beaches of Normandy. The only letter she had received was from his commander, notifying her of his tragic yet heroic passing. He had fought bravely, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, it seemed that they included everything they could just to make her feel an ounce better. The day she got the letter, she was young and fit, and also very pregnant with their fifth child. The tears came like an avalanche, no shoulder could console her. On nights like these she sits by herself on the porch, her loving children off living their own lives, making their own mistakes. She is alone to ponder their life together and apart. She thinks back to the night they met. The lights, the breeze, and the music all drove them together. December 23, 1934 at 6 pm Norah and her friends left for the Rockefeller Center in Manhattan. As the snow descended from the heavens, the three girls walked along the slippery, dirty streets, cars screeching by with their horns blaring. She loved the city, despite its bitter sweet nature. The cold nipped at her nose, taunting it to bleed, like it often did in frigid weather. Finally they reached the booth were they paid for their tickets. The man took their nickels and they made their way in, and spotted a free bench in the shadows of the big open tent. As they sat down to slip on their brand new skates, the crowds began pouring into the tent that was getting smaller by the minute. Norah and her friends hurried out to the ice that they had spent so long anticipating. The moon glowed brightly above the crowd, oblivious to the events occurring below.  As the girls struggled to make their way around the rink, Addison’s gaze flickered over to a tall, handsome, young man that was watching Norah. In light of the admirer, Norah turned her head slightly to attempt to sneak a glimpse of the handsome stalker.  Only as she turned, her face grazed an unfamiliar nose, and her lips were caressed feverishly by warm lips. Norah was awestruck, yet she did not object. The recollection of the great moments of her life hurt, but it was moments like these that kept Norah wishing, wondering, alive. The bright and scorching sun was beating down on her as she sat, pondering. A blue Toyota Corolla cruised by and pulled into the spotless garage next door. As the door shut, Norah was reminded by the day she found out Andy was dead. The dark, ominous, foreshadowing night before, Norah had put her four little angels to bed, and had retired to her own relaxing bed. The moment she sat down a sharp, stabbing pain hit her heart like a freight train. Someway, somehow she knew that the love of her life had been shot down by a German Messerschmitt plane. He had left about a year before, his letters drafted in European trenches left unsent. Children laughing shook her from her daydream. Her experienced mind floated to a new topic, the beauty of the world that surrounded her. No war could tear this away from her. The sun brightened still, until the lovely world faded away, and the heart monitor flat-lined.