Lest We Forget.
It started like any other day, but it wasn't. Today was a day of remembrance, remembering those who had died in the war, those who had died on this fateful day, - years ago. Today was ANZAC Day, in which I awoke at 3:30am to get ready for the dawn parade.
But it wasn't just a normal parade, for me. It was a day where I remembered all the suffering of my people, all the men who had fought for Gallipoli. I included, even though I wasn't exactly human, or a male to be precise. I am the personification of New Zealand, or Aotearoa.
Stretching, I climbed out of the warm bed and prepare for the day that lies ahead. I know that I have to go, but I wish I didn't. I don't want to remember the pain that my comrades had gone through, or when they fell, never to rise again.
Even though it happened – years ago I could still vividly remember it, like I had happened yesterday. I sigh, and slip on my uniform, and as I pin on the poppy, my hands start to shake, tears running down my cheeks. I should've been used to this by now. But every ANZAC Day I wind up crying, I swipe the tears from my face, no one must see them. I don't want anyone to see me so weak.
Hurriedly I eat some marmite on toast, grabbing the ANZAC cookies I made yesterday. I hop in my car and drive off to the memorial. Australia said that this year he would come to New Zealand for ANZAC Day.
We usually would spend ANZAC Day in our own country, but for some reason Australia had asked if he could come to New Zealand for ANZAC Day. Today would be one of the most important ever out of all the ANZAC Days. As the veterans from the war might not live long enough to see the next ANZAC Day, they are old, over 90, and now ANZAC Day would become a day for the young, to pay respect and to show that the same values those of old had were still alive in this generation, and the next to come.