Tomorrow Will Be a Better Day-A

Past generations of Americans have lived through many events, and with each generation precedents are set for the next, as in what to do and what not to do, and whatever the aftermath of the last generation was, the next generation will have to deal with. This is a concern with many parents in today’s world-the generations are becoming more careful in deciding actions that may hinder the future generation. In “Tomorrow Will Be A Better Day” by Josh Rittenburg, he tells of a conversation between his parents that he overhears. His father is worried about all the negative things the current generation is putting on the upcoming generation. Rittenburg at first is worried, then realizes, as he sees old family pictures, the trying things the previous generations have gone through and what good things came out as a result. Tomorrow will always be a better day, his father would always tell him, and Rittenburg now believes it.
My Great-Grandmother Lippert passed away eight years ago, and left a small, golden box with a black, satin-lined interior and a silky black bow to tie the box together. After her funeral, I recall my Grandma Wick taking the box from her deceased mother’s house. I had since forgotten about the box.
Flash forward to around 6 o’clock this evening. My momma is downstairs with my brothers, and I had just returned home from my forty-seven minute long “hunt for pita bread” extravaganza in Giant. To say the least, I was not in a good mood. My mom was yelling Ethan, the older of my two younger brothers, and I slapped down the bread, mom’s change, and her car keys.
“There’s a package for you on the stairs.” My mother said to me as I walked away. I picked it up off of the stairs, took it into my room, and opened the package. It was from my Grandma Wick, and she frequently sends me packages, so I’m excited to say the least. Her care packages are the bomb. I removed the paper from the box and found a letter-as usual-on top of a golden box with a black silky bow. My memory comes back to me, and I open the box in wonder. Nine strands of pearls are in the box. I am breathless. I open up Grammy’s letter and began to read it. It goes a bit like this:
“Court-These are Gramma Lippert’s pearls. Before she passed, she had told me she wanted me to give them to you. ‘Only when the dear girl comes of age, mind you’, she said. The last week when Grandpapa and I were here, after listening to you talk and seeing how much you have matured, I’ve decided it was time. Look under the pearls-there is a message for you. Love and hugs, Gram.”
Under the pearls lay a time-worn note that read: “My Darling Courtney-wear these pearls with humble pride my dear. Women will be able to do more in your day than in mine. Learn from the past, and take these pieces of it with you-go far, and make the world a better place for your children.”
Tomorrow will be, indeed, a better day.

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