March 30, 1912
Entry 1

Dear Journal,



Today was the same as the rest; dull with just a sliver of excitement. As Maggie and I walked home from school today, we decided to take a stroll around the heart and soul of Winchester, England, the town’s center. Things just haven’t been the same since father has left our family now, with only one hard working, yet struggling mother, whom we all love dearly. “When is father coming back?” Maggie has pondered multiple times.
“I don’t know Maggie, maybe one day, but let’s just hope.” I lied, knowing the truth of what happened that tore apart our family.


In early February, my mother, sister, and I were coming home with groceries when we saw an unfamiliar car in our paved stone driveway. Biting her lip, my mom inhaled and trudged in inside our little house, seeing another lady with brunette curls on our couch while my dad walked in with a bottle of red wine, that obviously was for two I assumed by the cheap plastic cups he was holding in his hand. My eyes went glassy and my legs buckled shakily as I dashed up the stairs and threw myself under the covers and pillow of my lumpy cot, hiding myself from the rest of the world. I knew what I had seen that night could never be taken back.


As we walked out of Paula’s Bakery, we noticed a flyer taped to the window of the door that read, “World’s Invincible Ship! Sailing out April 10th on Southampton Docks. Maiden voyage to New York in America. Titanic is the ship of dreams, so make yours come true! Once in a lifetime opportunity! Boarding time is 10 o’clock.” For a second there, my heart froze and I knew that this was something that people don’t just stumble across for no reason without it being destiny! Without thinking, I tore off the sign from the door, to bring home to my mother my miraculous discovery.



“C’mon Maggie, the boats are undocking in an hour, and we’ve barely any time to get there!” Mother exclaimed. The persuading wasn’t so easy because there was a great deal of schmoozing that was involved in order for my mother to go along with this idea. Since our family lived in a run-down, ratty, old apartment (owned by our “father”) my mom couldn’t care less how she left it or not since she’s not the one paying the bills of England.


My mother’s friend Ruth gave her a crummy automobile to use to get there (which was useless, but then again, it was still a way of transportation.) The seats smelled like burning rubber, the engine sounded like a junkyard for cars, being smashed and all, and the trip to the docks was like riding over jagged cliffs. Finally we had come to the White Star Line Shipyard in Southampton. There she was, the beauty herself. She was like a cathedral, so tall and majestic, standing with pride and narcissism as its flags blew in the ocean winds. We parked near the lot by the inspections for third class passengers, which made me feel uneasy about possibly being prohibited onto the ship, but I knew my health had been up to standard since I was in my mother’s womb.
The inspections went accordingly and the closer I came to the steel ship, the more ecstatic and discombobulated I had become. We had unfortunately, arrived two minutes before the doors were being closed, and the walkways onto the ship were being reeled in, so we had to secure our bunks in time, so we dashed like savages onto the walkways, and glided through the doors before they locked the doors.
“Ew! We have to stay in these? I thought what it said on the flyer was exceptionally divine suites for passengers on the Titanic!” moped Maggie.
“Yes, but those are for the first class passengers; the rich, snobby ones that have everything they own polished in gold. All their clothes are either silk, satin or lace. They hoard down bottles of rich expensive champagne and eat caviar by the dozen. Does that answer your question now?” I remarked with a snicker. Living in the third class suites was tight and congested with smelly, old, and rugged room mates. I felt like I was being compared to a rich, self-adorned aristocrat who struck oil in his fields. I just knew there would be ups and downs to this trip.

It became lifeless stuck in our rooms, so we were permitted by mother to explore the main decks, and most of all, the front! Once we worked ourselves to the front we looked down below us to see a school of dolphins cascading throughout the endless water. The sunset was setting at about five o’clock which gave us a perfect view of the far out horizon. In my mind, the sky looked as if it had been painted by Monet with the subtle brush strokes swept across each cloud. Nothing could replace this remarkable sight which I had stored in my head and will remember for eternity.
Saturday came by in a flash as we undocked with all the new passengers from Cherbourg, France, and we were well on our way to our final destination only days and days to come. The most exhilarating and rambunctious event had occurred Saturday night. Mother, Maggie, and I got to experience a real live party filled with dancing, Irish music being played, adults gulping copious glasses of cheap beer, and at that one moment, I felt, truly, like I was in a totally different, exotic world where people didn’t care if they were living in the lower levels of the ship, but only cared about dancing until they fell down. For once, I felt like I had a place where I would belong in life.

Sunday morning arose and us Simons set off to church held in the ballrooms. The morning was frigid so we were all encouraged to wear our winter coats, and for men top hats. It seemed like every mile closer to New York, it became even darker and chillier throughout the day.
“Hmm… That seems quite odd, but alright then?” I drifted away from the psalm being read aloud by the minister.
“Shhh! Josephine be quiet! What are you looking at anyway dear? There’s nothing out that window except for water,” my mother stated.
“I don’t know. I just think I’m really tired from last night and I’m imagining things. Never mind mother.” I reassured her.
It became evening before I knew it, and all of us settled down into our bunks so we could be awakened to a glorious new day in the morning. But right as my eyes became bulky and dreary just waiting to be closed, there was a shrill noise being thundered from the top decks near the front. I awoke with my adrenaline pumping and coursing though my veins and wanting to scream, but it was probably just a vase that had been dropped and broken I had decided to believe.
“Yes, nothing to be worried about Josie, so go back to sleep before you wake the others.” I whispered to myself. But I knew deep down inside that that crash was not just a broken vase because there were multiple crashes. It was something way more that I would only have till the morning to see, I guess.

Right Here and Now,
Josephine Simon