Rosaline

Chapter 1: Introduction

My name is Rosaline Johnson. I have a husband, Henry and two children, a daughter, Tabitha, and a son, Isaac. About a year ago, Henry and I decided that it was time to move into a new house, inside the town of Williamsburg; our house was in the outskirts out of town and Henry was accepted as a part of the house of burgesses.  Of course, we couldn’t say no to this offer so we made up our minds, we were going to move. After buying the land, Henry went over to the town’s brick maker. I stayed at home to watch over the children, if we were going to move into this town, I was to make sure that Tabitha and Isaac’s etiquette was perfect. Henry talked to the brick maker about the plans for the new house. We would have three rooms on the first floor, a hall, a master bedroom and a parlor. We would also have a second floor attic in which Tabitha and Isaac would sleep. They calculated the number of bricks and how much mortar the brick maker would need to make. Henry paid, thanked the man, and left. By this time, the children and I were packing our many belongings into trunks or tying them together with leftover string. After that, Henry went to the carpenter and they talked about the doors, shutters and flooring. He told Henry that he would go himself to the glass makes and the blacksmith to get nails and glass. After that Henry came home. I was cooking dinner with Tabitha while Isaac was playing with his skittles when there was a knock at the door. We jumped up to him, sat him down and begged him to tell us the plans. As he talked about our future house, I notice something… Tabitha’s eyes were glowing and her interest for the houses was obviously much bigger than anyone in the family, including Henry. She just sat there, taking in all of the details of the house like a washcloth takes in water. There was something that she had never told me before of, a passion, a pleasure, a dream.

Chapter 2: Tabitha’s Impossible Dream

Tabitha has always been, different; I could see it in her eyes. On the outside she was shy and sensitive, but inside, I never really knew until this special night. I was brushing my hair in the parlor, the children were asleep and Henry was beside me, working on the plans for the house. I noticed that there would be gabled windows for the atic, Henry knows I had always wanted gabled windows. As I looked over his shoulder, I heard something from upstairs, where the children slept, fall and break. I recognized that sound right away, porcelain. I slowly walked up the steep, narrow, stairs. The dim candle in my hand lit only enough for me to see my feet. As I step up to the second floor, I see candle light, coming out of the slim crack under Tabitha’s door. I slowly open the door, she is at her desk, covered in ink. I notice what seems like a drawing, on the desk, covered with the same ink the had all over her. I rush over and start helping her clean up. Once the has changed and the desk has a minority of stains on it, I ask her,

“What happened, why were you up so late at you desk?”

She looks down at the floor.

“Is it a secret, sweetie you know you can tell me”

“I was drawing” She says ashamed, “Drawing houses”

That was when I learned of Tabitha’s passion for architecture. The brought me to the chest at the end of her bed, and inside were drawings of houses, dozens of them. Of course the was a problem because she was a girl and therefore not able to be a carpenter or designer. But from then-on I knew of something that will forever be in her dreams.