June 26, 1835
Dear Diary,
We have just arrived at Fort Mackinac. It is like nowhere I have ever been, the island is beautiful and unbelievibly friendly and there is always so much to do. Mother and I are making preperations for when father leaves to go into battle. Mother pretends to be brave but all can see through the rappidly shedding mask Mother appears to have. She is stronguand all can tell but she doesn't like to show she likes to be the woman behind the mask. Father being the Captain of his Patrol has a house ready for Mother, Ann, Jonathan, Grant and I to live in while he is away at battle. My strong sister Abagail is away at the post hospital with the measeles. I fear she will end up with David in the Post Cemetary after his battle at war. May he rest in peace but I do not want that to happen to Abagail she has a future just as David did. He had a family, he had children for once he had his life on track then intruders appearded as quickly as they left. He was shot and the wounds were all too deep for Dr. Beaumont to repair and as his heart stopped to beat I held his hand as his fingers went cold and limp. I would be holding Abagail's hand as I did with David but the doctors do not want me to catch what she has. I pray everyday at St. Annes Church during mass but things seem to go downhill more than they seem to go up. I hope to see her soon but it seems the idea is farsighted in my life. As I prepare dinner with Ann I can see mother in the dinning hall shedding tears like the pitterpatter of raindrops on our new roof. Speaking of new roofs, our new house is shared with two other captain's families. It is the beautiful white house our family has always dreamed of. Mother calls to me to run off to Sutler's Store to get a loaf of bread and a cup of sugar for dinner. I stick a couple of extra pennies into the pocket of my newly tailored dress, (is it just me or does everything seem so new?) for a sasperella at the tea room and as I run off into the rain. I close you with this, Why does everything seem so right? When everyone is so wrong?
Until I write again,
Kaitlyn McIntyer