Wednesday April 29th, 2015

The exercise:

Write about: the exodus.

Did a brief stint in the strawberries this morning before Kat had to be in class from 10 to 2. I had Max during that time, the latter portion spent at the park. He was having fun playing with another little boy, who was just a little older than him (maybe four or five months?). Assuming 'fun' can be defined as rolling his ball down the slide, watching the other boy slide down after it, pick it up, bring it back up to the top of the play structure, give it back to Max, and then start it all over again.

Many, many times in a row.

Pretty sure Max got the better end of that deal. The other boy did seem to be enjoying himself though.

After we got back we went out to the garden with Kat and transplanted our onions and leeks. Max did help out a little bit, but he was mostly interested in digging in the dirt with his shovel and fingers and toy front end loader.

Mine:

The regime did not expect the exodus to happen as quickly as it did. They thought that their initial gesture would be enough to keep their subjects under control. A warning shot across their bow, in a manner of speaking.

They believed that it would buy them some much needed time. To get themselves organized, prepared, secured. Armed.

They were wrong, of course. But that is easy to point out after the fact.

Instead of cowering in fear, their subjects fled en masse. In a matter of minutes none remained in sight. Hours later none could be found. Overnight they were all gone.

Save for poor Tommy Bishop.

For he was still in detention, under the watchful eyes of the principal and all his teachers. An example meant to freeze his companions in place, gone horribly wrong.

Not a single one of his fellow students ever came back to make an attempt to set him free.