Her Name Was Jen

As she rolled down the hill near the ravaged landscapes of WW2, the little redheaded girl passively knew what had happened, but refused to allow it to define her existence. She was sad, but resilient. She was cautious, but optimistic. Perhaps it was her DNA. Perhaps it was her innocence or just the way Mother had raised her. Perhaps it was simply because her name was Jen.

Although her family and older siblings heard the air-raid sirens and had to flee the daily bombings for the safety of underground shelters, she only knew of those moments through the quiet chatter and whispers of her uncle, aunt, older siblings, mother and father. She was conceived 14- months after her dad’s return from the war; the war against Nazism; the war against pure evil. Her father served as a sergeant in the Scottish Army; allied troops who helped purge the German’s vice-grip on the citizens of Italy. He was proud to protect his family. He was proud to protect others he didn’t even know.

As Jen played hide and seek with her friends within the wartime ruins, she suddenly heard a harsh voice speak to her from deep within the shadows.

“How can you play among the midst of yesterday’s pain,” the unfamiliar voice asked? “How can you take such joy knowing what I once did to your family,” the voice proclaimed with a sarcastic tone?

“You should be crying little girl, not rejoicing,” it proudly spoke. “For that is why I created such devastation.”

To such words of taunt, Jen replied. “I may be just a child but am very aware of the beauty of family, nature and the universe. No matter what you did in the past and what you may do in my future, I will always see the flowers of spring, rejoice at the sight of a rising sun, walk within a gentle rain and cherish the smiling faces of those who love me. For that is true ONENESS, true wholeness and the significance of life. While I may be very young, I understand your evil ways and vile attempts to find ONENESS by destroying all that is not you. Until you learn that such wholeness cannot be achieved through the destruction and mass consumption of others, such acts will bring you greater pain than those you seek to destroy. Farewell evil one. Till you see what I have always seen, you will remain in utter turmoil. In the meantime, I will continue to play with my friends and sing to the heavens from your staged relics.”

The voice, seemingly disturbed by Jen’s words, looked into a mirror shattered at the bottom of the hill and became terrified at its own image. It took a little girl to make it see the obvious. Her name was Jen.