Agrippa Hull's Long March Home from Yorktown

Placeholder Once upon a time, in a little town tucked between rolling green hills and a wide, winding river, there lived a girl named Maren. She had bright curious eyes the color of a summer sky, and she wore her dark hair in two braids that swung when she walked. One evening, just as the fireflies were beginning to blink their tiny golden lights across the meadow, Maren climbed up onto the old wooden porch with her grandfather, whom she called Poppo. He was a tall man with kind wrinkles around his eyes and hands that had done a great deal of work over many years. Maren tucked herself under his arm and looked out at the flag hanging from the porch post. It was red and white and blue, and even in the soft evening breeze, it moved slowly, like it was breathing. "Poppo," she said quietly, "why does the flag always make you stop and look at it like that?" He was quiet for just a moment, the way he always was before he said something important. Then he smiled and said, "Because every time I see it, I remember a story." "What kind of story?" Maren asked. "The best kind," he said. "The kind with real people in it. People who were scared sometimes, and tired sometimes, but who kept going anyway because they loved something bigger than themselves." Maren pulled her knees to her chest and looked at the flag again. The white stars seemed brighter now, as the sky behind them deepened to violet. "Will you tell me?" she asked. Poppo gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "That's exactly what I was hoping you'd ask," he said. "Now close your eyes for just a moment, and let me take you back to the very beginning."