A Colonial Girl

The Journal of Sara Wilkins

A Colonial Girl

By Michelle Shen

 

September 1, 1620

It is such a surprise!!  Father told me that we would be traveling to America where we can worship as we please.  He gave me this journal to write about my- our passage to America (Typical of my father.  He always wanted us to act proper even though we are farmers in our daily lives).

In my haste, I forgot to introduce myself.  I am Sara and I am 9 years old.  I was born in London, which is in England.  My family is Puritan.  That means that we protest against England’s strict worshipping of only Christian and nothing else.  In my family, there aren’t a lot of family members.  My Mama is a seamstress, but lost her job.  That is one of the reasons we are leaving England.  My father is a Puritan priest.  He is one of the main leaders of the Protestants.  I also have a sister, Angelica.  She is my twin.  Even though we look alike, our personalities are very different.  She is silent and like to sew and read.  I am more outgoing and I like to do more active things.  I think that I look normal: blonde hair, blue eyes, white skin, and a sharp Roman nose.

September 2, 1620

Even though we are going to America, I still have to keep up with my daily chores.  The first thing is to get up at 4:00 AM.  You might think that it is harsh to wake up so late, but laziness was considered a sin.  Also, Father, Mama, and Angelica would also get up for their chores.  Father went out to check the field for weeds.  It is very important because we depended on the farm for everything.  Mama was teaching Angelica and me how to cook.  I was already practicing for three weeks, but my pottage (a sort of porridge and soup mixed together) still isn’t good enough.  I baked good bread though.  Anyways, on the first day, I learned not to stand too close to the fire (My skirt burned.).  I tried my best to cook the chicken pottage.  I ought to be ashamed not to pluck the troublesome birds myself (Angelica did it.  She was better than me at the activity.). 

When Father was finished, we had breakfast.  My parents sat on the small wooden stools Father carved last month.  Angelica and I sipped our pottage, trying not to slurp or speak when not spoken to.  Something happened that made me feel warm inside.  Mama actually complimented on the pottage!!  This was my very first time to be complimented on something I cooked (except for bread).  “Sara, this pottage is especially good today,” was Mother’s exact words.  I want to remember them forever in this journal.  Mama also said, “Try to make this pottage everyday when you are cooking.”

“I will,” I replied.

After breakfast, Mama taught us how to read and write.  Father encouraged it.  The only book we had in the house was a Bible, so it was the only thing we can read.  I didn’t even have parchment to write on; I had to use bark.

September 3, 1620

I feel very nervous.  This will be the last time I will see home.  Yesterday, I barely slept.  Today, we are packing our bags to ride a stagecoach to Southampton, England.  It is where the ship, Mayflower (as Father informed me) would set sail.  I feel very sad that I will never come back to England again.

September 4, 1620

This is so UNCOMFORTABLE!!!!  The stagecoach has so many people there is only room for 1/16 of the people to sit.   I just finished lunch which was baked brown beans and water, courtesy of the tavern owner.   A person, whom I supposed had been on the stagecoach a long time, told me this was all we had for all the meals, so I better get used to it.  There are only a few more minutes until the stagecoach departs.  I can already hear Mama calling my name.

September 15, 1620

Everything is bustling in our journey.  There is so much work to be done (just like home), I can’t even write in my journal.   I finally managed to get some spare time and a seat on the stagecoach (we take turns).  Yesterday, the stagecoach got stuck in mud.  Everybody (including the ladies) had to get out pushing the stagecoach.  Some men went out to whip the horses.  I got covered in mud