It was 1920 and the war had left France devastated. After the war, our industries were destroyed, our economy collapsed, and our families ripped apart. Our lands and homes were gone; so we all had decided to leave and rebuild elsewhere in a land of opportunity. We were gathered on this ship in hopes of making a new life for ourselves. There were many men aboard, but even more women with children, perhaps going to meet their husbands already in America.
One particular woman caught my attention. She was thin and pale, with long blonde hair pinned back and in a braid. She was dressed in many raggedy layers: skirts, blouses, sweaters, and a fur-trimmed coat; probably her most prized possession. She only had one small trunk with her, which held her belongings. Her small child sat atop the trunk, becoming restless. She tried to calm him down and keep him quiet, to minimize the attention drawn to them. I heard his whines, but I noticed something more about her. She was clutching two letters in her fist. When her child was settled, she would read them. The same two pieces of parchment, over and over again. I watched her. I saw the look of…
“This letter is from a man who I’m going to see. One of my friends is already in America, and when she saw a posting for this job, she thought of me. She wrote me about a man who is looking for a nanny to take care of his children because his wife passed away. He’s a busy businessman and needs someone to live in their home, take care of his two children, and teach them like a mother would. I decided to contact him and tell him I would like the job. My family in France is gone, I have no one but my son. I have been learning english from a neighbor, and I’m actually quite decent. I wrote him and told him I was willing to move there. This is his letter hiring me for the job; the pay isn’t much, but it’s a place to live, and my son is welcome.” she said…
