Today we're writing about: walls.
This morning in the cabin four walls got cleaned (by yours truly) and one wall got its second coat of blue paint (by my lovely wife). And tonight I worked with Kat's dad to get the linoleum installed in the bathroom, which felt like a pretty big accomplishment.
Anyway. Walls. Go!
The wall that had surrounded my village for three generations was crumbling. We had become complacent after so many years of unchallenged security. Our hands were soft, our bellies fat, our swords rusty and dull. It was so decrepit, a child could have broken through our wall in a dozen or more places.
If only we'd been so fortunate.
But we were not, nor did we deserve to be. No, the day the walls were breached there were no children amongst the invaders. Only savage men, dressed like animals and as relentless as a winter wind. We didn't stand a chance of winning that fight.
So I took my little brother and I ran.
Now no walls protect us, but we are safer without them.