Miss Emily Roberts
There she was, with her gleaming, blue eyes that shone brighter than all the stars amongst the constellations, her dreams were being deeply etched against her intrinsic yet pristine like body. Her intricate little fingers lingered upon my skin; her touch was my serenity. Her intoxicating little giggle permanently had become part of musical history, a whimsical tone of hope, joy and love. Simultaneously, my wife and I longingly gazed into each other’s eyes, questioning what kind of miracle have we been blessed with which embraced us with such love? As we gazed into her crib, we both knew, her name would be Emily Jane.

Emily Jane Roberts spoke her first words at the age of one and started walking just a few weeks later. All within that same year, the Depression had knocked us hard against the head, leaving my wife and I unemployed yet both working hard to make ends meet. Currently, we’re living on food stamps. Despite our living conditions Emily is quite content with our living conditions, although she is only 3, her rosy cheeks still blossom to the sound of our names and welcomes us with her harmonious little giggle. It’s been a tough year, most nights were unbearable as the thought of our child’s empty future had beared us a burden that we were both willing to sacrifice our lives for. There was no choice, the only way I could provide for my family and Emily’s future was to work multiple jobs for long strenuous hours, day and night.

My night shift had began at the old slaughter house, during those strenuously long hours trudging through the blood and gore, I’d reminisce of Emily’s face as a support system and guidance when times were rough. It was rather an unfortunate job, after coming home Emily would be in a deep sleep waiting for me to come home as she lied against her mothers’ warm and gentle bosom. Everyday was the same routine, come to work early, work hard and strenuously for long hours and come home late only to be welcomed by sleepy drones, unable