It was December 7th, 1946 and 11 year old James Pier was walking down the cold, crowded street, "Morning James!" called a man by the flower shop, "Morning" called James. He was about to feed the chickens when Fiona Garter came, James's best friend. "Hi! How are you?" asked Fiona, "Good."  he replied.  "What's wrong with you today?" asked Fiona, "Oh, I've got to do chores and write a letter to pa." answered James. "Yeah, same goes for me, well, I'll see you later!" said Fiona hurrying down the cobblestone road. Meanwhile, James finished feeding the chickens, and all he had to do now was write a letter to pa, his very ill grandfather. 

Dear Pa,

It may be hard to read this letter, I just started writing cursive. Everything is fine here, I keep asking mum if I  can get a horse, I really hope that she says yes soon. I'm always very busy with chores and Bella, my parakeet, always begs me for food because she thinks she's going to starve to death during the cold. I am all right, Joseph and Larry are still rude to me. Did you get bullied when you were my age? Feel better.

                                Love,

                                    James

"James! Breakfast!" James's mom shouted. "Coming!" he shouted back, and raced down the stairs to the table where a nice big bowl of hot porridge was waiting for him. "So, did you do all of your chores?" his mother asked him. "Yeah, I fed the chickens and got water from the river and took it to Bill, and wrote the letter to pa." said James, "Good." his mother said with a smile. "Where's father?" asked James, "Is he still at the dock?" James hadn't seen his father in years, and today was the day that he would come home. "Yes, and sadly, he said that he might be late tonight." James's mother said with a sigh. "Maybe we can go see him?" James asked, "No, well, maybe. . . I don't know." his mother replied. And by that time he had finished his breakfast.

"Oh Bella," he said to his parakeet, "what am I going to do with my life." "Tweet, tweet." she tweeted, and he chuckled, "No fair, parakeets like you just get to hang out in a cage and not care what goes on in life, except when your owner talks to you."