A Boy's Dream

By An American Writer & Essayist

Pennsylvania, 1950

Jack Le Roux, aged 10

For as long as I can remember, I wanted to be a hero. Like my father in the war against Germany. He died over there and my mother died from grief not long after, but I had two to look after me. My dog, Chester and my grandmother, Alice. She was young for a grandmother and still had a feminine charm and grace, but that didn’t stop her from running a tight schedule. But she wasn’t all strict, she told me stories of raising my father as well as stories of her own childhood in South Africa. You see, she was a Boer, Dutch Afrikaner. A tough farm girl who grew up working the land the same as her dad. When their war with England came, her dad went off to war and never came back. After, her mother and older brother sold the farm and with what little they had, moved to America.

They stood out due to not many Boers choosing America as their new home, but her brother had hopes. He saw America and The Afrikaner Republics as kin. Enemies of England and defenders of the Frontier and Liberty. They mostly kept to themselves, though my grandmother did meet a boy around her age who grew to become a fast friend and her future husband, who she would outlive. She lived a hard life. Losing both her husband and son in the world wars, which she called, “The Brothers’ War.” She harbored no ill will to the English, though she blames their government for destroying her home and taking her father.

Anyways, she would also give me books on history as well as fantasy, my favorite being The Princess and the Goblin. One morning, on a cool autumn day, I entered my father’s old study and library where Alice occasionally finds herself being idle, cherishing memories and I asked her, “Grandma. I want to see South Afrika.” “She looked at me with stern yet caring eyes and sighed with a smile.” “I should’ve known this day would come. Ever since I told you those stories of the Boers and your father, and you took my name as your own. I knew you’d had the same spirit.” She sighed again. Well, it’s about time I showed you something. Come.” She gestured and I followed.

She marched me outside and to the shed in the backyard and inside on display was her father’s Boer Mouser. I thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world, after my grandmother of course. “No touching. This is not for use, but I wanted to show you a real weapon of war. This is real, not pretending to fight dragons and save fainting maidens. However, I do give you my blessing. When you’re older, fifteen should be alright. We’ll pack our things, and we’ll move. It’s been far too long since I’ve seen my home, occupied as it is. Come, I do believe it is time for your lessons.” She said with a wink and a smile.