John had returned home far happier than when he had left. He and Lillian were okay, he knew they’d be fine through this all. The two lived together with Lillian’s mother, Catherine. Lillian was a lot like her mother; they had the same eyes, the same face shape, and the same colour hair. Just by looking at Catherine, John could tell that he’d be happy waking up to Lillian for the rest of his life. Everybody knew that John was going to propose, but none of them knew when - not even John knew.
Deep down he knew that if he wasn’t preparing for war, he and Lillian would be married already. She would be his Mrs Wilson, and they’d have four wonderful children that would be the envy of the neighbourhood. But that may never happen; all they could do is hope that nothing would come of it.
So here was John, sitting in their kitchen holding onto a small brown box which contained the most expensive gift he would ever buy. John didn’t know when he was going to get around to proposing, he was leaving for Camp White in two weeks. John groaned in frustration, why were things never simple? This was the love of his life he was thinking about, if it wasn’t perfect then there wasn’t any point in doing it. But he was going to, regardless!
John looked at the box for the last time before leaving the kitchen, box in hand. He walked through the hall way and looked at the walls, they were littered with photos, memories, from their first date, their high school prom, their graduation and so many other memories that brought a grin to his face. John ascended the stairs, entering his room. It was a plain room, a double bed was the main attraction since he had a small room. John walked over to his chest of drawers and pulled out a pair of tracksuit bottoms and a plain white t-shirt. He was going for a run to clear his mind of any negativity that he felt - plus if he ran past the Diner, Lillian wouldn’t be able to complain at him for not being healthy.
John changed quickly and left the house, it was windier than it was before when he came home; the wind caught in his hair, spiking it in unusual places. John lifted his left arm and brought his hand through his dark hair, in an attempt to bring some sort of control to his longish hair. He sure was going to miss his hair when it gets cut at Camp White in two weeks, it took him so long to grow, plus Lillian liked it that way. John did his stretches to warm up his joints; this run was going to do him the world of good (and by good, John assumed painful agony).
His feet hit the ground at a constant pace, his heart was beating fast, the sweat on his brow was clinging to his hair; this was the hardest he had worked on a run in a while. But he’d be working far harder than this when he gets sent to Camp, so the more prepared he was now, the better off he’d be when he arrived.
He never paid attention to where he was running, sometimes he’d run past the Astoria Column, sometimes he’d run past the Diner and see Lillian working, others he’d run through Shively Park or he’d run along the piers. Today he was doing all of that. It was going to take him well over two hours to complete this run, but he was sure as hell he was going to complete it.
The wind was relentless, it tried it’s best to push John around, making his trek just slightly more difficult. The sun had long since disappeared into the clouds, but John continued, none the less. He was determined not to give up.
It was quiet around the Column, which surprised John. The Column was only fifteen years old, so it was still fresh and everybody wanted to get their fill of the monument. John didn’t truly see the point in going to see the Column though, it’s not as if it did anything. So, when he arrived there, he took a brief glace - it still didn’t impress him, so he moved on. The route to Shively Park was beautiful - it always had been - and it always made John proud to be from Astoria.
Shively Park was dense and full of trees, flowers and so much other greenery and shrubbery. It was always brought such a pleasure for him to run through, the scenery was to die for. He wished that he could bring it with him when he went to Europe, but if the woods were this dense there then he knew that they’d be in trouble.
