I looked at the photo, and vivid flashes of that day returned to me. The worst part was losing Pa. Still, to this day, I hate all the people who told us we would make rich. I hate myself for believing it. If only I had known what was to come, I could have warned everyone, and I could have saved everyone! And I could have saved Pa. 

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       As I was asleep, I dreamed of rain pounding on the roof and a brand new set of clean, bright blue overalls. They were  right! We made it rich, but as the morning drew closer, reality came back to me, and I realized that no rain had fallen, and I had no new bright blue overalls. I sighed a sigh of anger and disappointment and got out of the old, raggedy bed. I then stomped outside our little house to find Ma sitting on the porch, calmly looking over the vast barren lands with a hopeful look. How can she be so calm when almost everything has gone to hell? I thought. “Everything is already dead; I am almost dead” I uttered in a low solemn voice. 

       "How can you be so calm when almost everything has gone to hell?" I thought once more, this time accidentally speaking out loud.

       "Watch your mouth, young man," Ma said. I could see the distasteful look on her face. "You know the reason I am so calm. The Lord will make it rain when he sees fit; this is all part of his master plan," she added. "We just have to have faith, and I can tell you're lacking some, James." 

       "So making us die is his master plan?" I snapped back.

       "The heavens will open up when he sees fit," Ma repeated, ignoring my comment. I huffed and walked away, but I wasn't done complaining yet.

        "Why is Pa out in those damned fields?" I screamed so he could hear me. "The corn is turning brown and is dead! Dead!" I cried, kicking the wash bucket. I was so fed up. Something went off in my head; something snapped.

        "They tricked us! We're going to starve to death before there is any rain!" I screamed, banging my hand against the house. "They promised rich soil and money!" I slumped to the ground, panting and sobbing tears of anger, blood dripping from my ripped-apart wrist. Ma was still calmly sitting. 

       "They didn't trick us; the rain will follow the plow. I promise you, James, these things take time," Ma started in her soft voice. This wasn't the first time I had heard this, and I no longer believed it. 

       "That's what you always say. What if the rain never falls?"

       "It will; it will."

       I was so disoriented that I didn't even see the massive dust storm hurtling toward us. It didn't take long to notice as dusters were hard to miss. I screamed for Pa, but he was already limping with his cane swiftly toward the house. 

       "Get in the cellar, James!" he screamed, coughing and panting heavily.

       "On it," I barked back. 

       We all quickly rushed in and closed the door, hoping it would be over as soon as it started. In the dark, no one talked, but I could hear the soil above pounding against the house like a hundred bulls running through an open field, and I could also hear Pa panting and wheezing heavily as Ma silently prayed.  

       I had heard stories about people being trapped under the dirt, and I just prayed the storm wasn't horrible and we would quickly get out. The walls felt like they were caving in. I started to breathe heavily; it was like I had put a blindfold on me.  With the little light there was I looked around for something to distract myself, only for a moment. That was when I found the old pamphlet that once sat in the street back in New York. Oh, what I would give to be back in New York.

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       When I found the pamphlet, I ran home to Pa to tell him.

       "This could be our big break!" I exclaimed, jumping up and down. 

       "I'm not too sure," Pa responded skeptically, looking unsure. I tried convincing him for days, but got Ma on board immediately. I was so stupid to think this would ever work; I should have quit trying when Pa said no. Once I convinced Ma, we packed our belongings and left for the Great Plains. We moved around a lot, with Pa having new jobs every couple of months, so it wasn't unusual making the move.     

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       Once the storm started to ease up, I dropped the pamphlet, eager to get out of the stuffy cellar. We got out quickly, though we were all covered in dust from head to toe. Everything on site was plastered in dust; nothing was clean. In the past storms, I would try to brush the dirt off my sunburnt skin, but after so many dusters, the dust had become so ingrained in my skin that it was impossible to remove. It had become a part of me, a reminder of the storms. 

       The three of us quickly started cleaning everything around our tiny house, but Pa suddenly dropped to the ground out of nowhere. I was confused, but I began to pull the facts together. The past couple of weeks, Pa started to develop a cough, and it had gotten worse every single storm, but his condition had gotten way worse this time. He would not stop coughing!

       "You good, Pa?" I asked instinctively.

        "Yeah. I think I just tripped on a rock," he shakily replied.

       He got back up, and we continued to work. Just a bit later, I heard another thump, and what do you know? Pa had fallen again. "Watch where you're walking," I muttered angrily, thinking he had tripped over another rock. This time he didn't get back up; he started to cough heavily, and blood started to come up.

        Again I asked, "Are you okay?"

       "I'm fine. I need to sit for a bit," he replied, annoyed. 

       After ten minutes, he did not get up, 

       After another five minutes, I checked on him, and he was no better. I reluctantly went back to the house to get Ma, and when she checked up on him, he had broken a fever and had pains all over.

       We brought him back to the house and laid him on the bed, but then he started to cough. Before long, blood was coming up, which made me a bit queasy.  

       There wasn't much I could have done. This is all my fault. We should have never come here in the first place. I must have thought this a million times. His condition worsened rapidly, and later that night, he could barely move or breathe, and it did not take much longer for his illness to overtake him. His last words were, "I love you." I didn't believe it. It started as a typical day, and everything that could have gone wrong went wrong. 

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       Ma cried for days, and I felt so ashamed that I was the one who caused this all to happen. I knew that we couldn't keep living in this forsaken place. Ma wasn't getting any younger, and neither was I, so I decided that we were going to move back to New York. Life got way better after that. I got a job at a factory that paid very well, and Ma started a flower shop using new farming techniques that didn't cause dust storms. I learned my lesson the hard way, a way no one should have to. 

-Josh G.