Static Waves

The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel. The crescent waves crashed softly against the shore, creating a subtle roar that echoed in the early hours of the morning. I gazed out into the quiet, a somber drizzle wetting my dress. A foghorn sounded and corrupted the calm. I closed my eyes at the familiar sound, a song that few of us knew. My mother told me England was no longer safe for me when she sent me off to live with a family I had never met in a country I had never known. England had skies quite like this one that were grey and unwelcoming. The soldiers began marching through the streets, their brows furrowed and their uniforms crisp. There was breaking glass, screams, and the sound of an angry jet engine in the evening sky. My beautiful home had been corrupted by hate. 
I stayed many nights on that hulking boat, the young children screaming for their mothers prevented me from sleep and created midnight-tinted bags under my chestnut eyes.  I used to have my mother's eyes, warm and innocent. It seemed as if now, mine had turned the opposite. When the boat lurched into the dock, America welcomed me with open arms that I reluctantly ran into. I am indeed thankful for my new home, my teachers are kind and the family I stay with is joyful and beautiful. After dinner, we gather around the hulking oak radio and listen to stories of the courageous western cowboys. I pray my father will be as brave as them.  I pray that I will be brave, too. 
Even though it seems as if I should be happy, I find myself at the cloudy port every Saturday morning, before the daylight warmth touches the sky. I sit on the edge of the creaking dock, my legs swaying off the side. My shaking hands reach out into the fog, the musty spray splashing on them. I let out a longing sigh that echoes across the ocean. I hope it reaches home. I think that maybe if I kept things to myself I'd be better off. I was such a joyful child, but now I feel weak and worn-as if the happiness I once had has been ripped out of my chest in one swipe. Don't ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody.