Sniped - Protection

 

                Anthony climbed out of the van because of Jenny’s prompting to meet her parents, he received a vigorous and passionate hug from the little girl to then shake hands with her father and receive another hug from her mother. A little bit of small talk followed as Anthony explained how he and his mates from the military made the decision to take action against the abductions that were taking place in the communities around London. He and Jenny’s father stepped to the side and watched Jenny and her mother walk into their home.

               “I cannot thank you enough for taking on this massive problem that our nation is facing,” her father said. “We have been worried sick regarding Jenny’s wellbeing, we reported her disappearance to the police and they have done nothing to find her. Again, thank you so much for bringing her home.”

               “Yes, of course,” Anthony answered. “My crew and I had the highest kill rate across Afghanistan for the last three years. We used these skills to track down the Pakistani gangs. We put an end to a large number of these evil men, so they cannot continue this depravity they have imposed on our culture. We have plans to do this same thing in three other communities.”

               Jenny’s father initiated another powerful handshake and a shoulder hug for Anthony. “I have a general idea of what Jenny has suffered and I have to say I am glad I do not know the details of what those men did to her.”

               “It is probably best that way,” Anthony said. “Here is my card with my phone number, please call me and keep me updated about Jenny’s recovery from all of this. If you have any other thoughts or questions, don’t hesitate to make contact.”

               The two men shook hands a third time and Anthony returned to the van to drive back and retrieve Alan from the alleyway behind the apartment complex. “Wow, that was horrible,” Anthony said. “No little girl should have to go through that kind of abuse, it seems like she has a great home life, good parents, and it sounds like she’ll be getting the therapy she needs to recover from this.”

               Two days later, Anthony and his mates met again to make plans for executing the next step against the next Pakistani gang in a neighboring community. Following the same path and planning schedule as they did in their first strike, they found the worst perpetrators, placed Alan in a third story apartment across from the Pakistani headquarters, prepared a van and a second getaway car to be parked behind the house. Like clockwork and very much like their work in Afghanistan, they powered into the house, began executing the dozen men that were in the house, rescued the girls and began bringing them home.

               Alan carried out his responsibility with precision, executing fourteen men who approached the front door, dropping them when they entered the house. One hour later, Anthony and Jeffrey retrieved Alan from the alleyway behind the apartment complex. “Wow, that was another perfect execution,” Anthony said. “Knowing that we’re using our skills to destroy evil and protect the innocent is remarkably satisfying.”

               The following morning Anthony was pulled from sleep by his ringing phone, struggling up onto his elbow, he answered the phone to hear Jenny’s father asking for a favor.

               “Hello Anthony,” he said, “I have been speaking with several other fathers from girls at Jenny’s school. We made the decision to ask you if you and your team would be interested in taking on a security role when the girls walk home from school. We were thinking that if you surrounded them as a protective shield, no one would even think about attempting an abduction.”

               “Oh, hello sir,” Anthony said, “I think that is a great idea. I’ll talk to the other guys and gather our thoughts. A job of protection of the innocent is something the police should be doing but since they are not, I think I can say with confidence that we would be happy to take on that role. I’ll give you a call this evening to confirm.”

               Anthony pulled himself from bed, took a shower, and sent a text to everyone in the group, explaining the nature of the phone call from Jenny’s father. They all agreed to meet for lunch at the local pub and work through the details of what a protection security team would look like.

               Once everyone arrived, Anthony thanked everyone for taking the time to gather and discuss this important idea. “I wanted to share my first thought,” he said, “obviously we cannot use live rounds against these perpetrators, I believe tranquilizers will be the best approach. If we work in teams of four, we can walk with these girls and safely deliver them to their homes.”

               “Those are very good ideas,” Jeffrey said, “in addition to that, after we tranquilize these guys, we can follow them back to their homes and possibly rescue other victims.”

               “Another great idea,” Alan said. “If I continue my work of firing from a distance, I can destroy their vehicles, which will prevent them from continuing this work. I had another idea; we should research and see if there are other mates around London from the military to help us with this. Surely there are many other communities that are struggling with dealing with this kind of depravity. I know all of us have other contacts from our time of service, so let’s do our research and see if we can increase our reach to bring more of these gangs to an end.”

               The men finished their meals and went their separate ways, at which time Anthony placed a phone call to Jenny’s father to confirm that everyone was excited about the idea of continuing to help and protect the innocent. “If you tell me what time the girls are released from school, we can be prepared to meet them out front and walk them home,” he said. “Our plan is to work in teams of four so that more protective work can be done at one time.”

               “Oh, thank you so much,” Jenny’s father answered. “They are released from school at 2:45 pm. I’ll contact the other fathers and let them know your response and I’ll contact the school as well so there won’t be a problem there. I know that my wife and the mothers of the other girls will be thrilled knowing that the threat of abduction no longer needs to be a concern.”

               “Oh, one other thing,” Anthony said, “everyone on my team made the decision to reach out to other soldiers in the communities around London, to see if they would be interested in taking on similar roles in the schools near them. We need to figure out how to communicate this to the families in those areas. I’ll stay in contact once we know who and where the other soldiers can assist us.”

               Anthony sent a text communicating the details of his conversation with Jenny’s father and all twelve men met at the front of the school at 2:30 to create an imposing image. Fully armed with tranquilizer pistols, they formed three teams of four and were quickly joined by dozens of little girls who were very excited to have protection with them as they walked home.

               Flanked by four large, armed men as they walked home in different directions, Anthony noticed the occasional group of Pakistani men looking at them and clearly making the decision to not engage or attempt an abduction. Knowing that Alan was on the third floor of an apartment building with a clear view of the sidewalks and groups of people, the other men were encouraged to carry out the work before them.

               All three groups succeeded in bringing each girl safely home, to then return and regroup in front of the school in case there were other children who needed protection on their way home. As they gathered, they found that the sidewalks were empty with the exception of multiple vehicles carrying Pakistani men looking disappointed and frustrated. In a rapid sequence of explosions, multiple vehicles stopped operating, as Alan laid armor piercing bullets into multiple engine blocks.

               All twelve men met Alan at the local pub and celebrated their successful first run with delivering the young girls home safely. “Well, that was a fabulous day, gentlemen,” Anthony said. “My hope is that if we continue this for several weeks, the Pakistani gangs will give up, presuming that they have no chance to successfully engage in more abductions. A consistent presentation of our presence should bring an end to this wicked depravity.”

               “Oh, one question,” Jeffrey said, “did anyone make contact with other soldiers in surrounding communities? If we can make this effort a regular part of every school day, we will have succeeded in stopping a dangerous situation for these families.”

               All twelve men confirmed that they had received no positive responses from the other soldiers. “Well, that is really disappointing,” Anthony said. “I think if we contact all of them and put together a meeting so we can communicate the dire need for this and answer specific questions. We cannot allow this effort to fail; this is far too important. Our fellow brothers need to understand just how horrible a reality this is for these families.”

               “I completely agree,” Jeffrey said. “Everyone please reach out to those with whom you have been in contact. We need to decide on a date, a time, and a location to keep this good work moving. Also, we have had two successful Pakistani home destructions take place, so let’s get started on the third in the next community over. This work that we are doing will create safety and protection for these families. This is far too important to just walk away from it.”

Sniped

                Anthony sat in his living room watching the local news about the increase of the abductions of teenage girls from the suburbs of London. He could feel anger rising within him. “This is unreal,” he grumbled. “What has happened to our society that the weakest members of our culture are being taken advantage of and abused by certain groups of immigrants? Clearly the authorities are doing nothing about resolving these crimes, maybe I’ll make a few phone calls and see if there is something me and my buddies can do to bring this to an end.”

               Picking up the remote, turning off the television, and dropping the device on the coffee table before him, he stepped onto his balcony to look down upon the always busy streets below him. “Yep, exactly what I expected to see,” he groaned. “Roaming groups of middle-aged men following young girls around. Anthony, you really need to make that phone call, draw up specific plans, and take action, all of this is just so wrong.”

               “Wow, I am really hungry, maybe I’ll text the guys and get together for lunch so we can talk this out in person,” he said to himself. Dropping himself back upon his couch, he fired off the text to his collection of friends with whom he had served in Afghanistan. Within twenty minutes he had twelve positive responses to gather at the local pub for bangers and mash and possibly a pint. Looking at his watch, he realized that he had less than one hour to get ready, and walk to the pub.

               As Anthony entered the pub, he instantly saw six of his friends at a large booth in the far corner. Within ten minutes all twelve men arrived, once everyone had gathered and ordered their lunch, he launched into his angry diatribe about the rape gangs that were plaguing the weakest members of their city. “Because the authorities are doing nothing about this,” he said, “and from what I am hearing, they are turning a blind eye to all of this corrupt and abusive activity, so as not to appear as being racist. With that in mind, we need to start watching our neighborhoods, make our presence known, and start sniping these evil men. Our group had the highest kill rate in Afghanistan with each one of us being the top snipers in the military.”

               “Anthony, you are absolutely right,” Jeffrey said. “We will need to take some time to observe, scout, and research who these people are and where they are taking these girls. We need to act fast though and begin this work of clean up. Taking out bad guys is our job. This kind of abuse of the weak and innocent has no place in our society.”

               “Thank you, Jeffrey,” Anthony said. “Does anyone else have any thoughts or hesitation about following this path? Let’s all stay in touch, watch the news, and see where most of this criminal activity is taking place. Speak up now if you’re not interested in being involved in this.”

               Their lunches arrived and they transitioned their conversation to next steps, identifying neighborhoods, and being subtle about their actions. Four days later, a specific and detailed plan was put together, very similar to how they worked together in Afghanistan. Weapons were prepared, specific men were identified, and the top four neighborhoods were identified as having the worst of this activity.

               Alan was named as the key sniper, taking his place on the third floor of a neighboring apartment complex, across the street from a home that housed multiple middle-aged men. As they continually surveyed the activity in that home, they watched as multiple girls were taken inside to be followed by a steady stream of Pakistani men.  As darkness began to settle, Alan was in place with a heat sensor scope on his rifle as the other ten men, dressed in full military gear entered the house from all four directions.

               Alan kept his eyes focused on the activity inside the home, his heat sensor scope showing all of the details. Muffled gunshots sounded from inside of the house. Anthony and Jeffrey moved from room to room, communicating to the caged girls that they were there to help and bring them home. As each girl was released from their cage, they were instructed to clothe themselves and gather in the kitchen. “This makes me absolutely sick to the stomach,” Anthony said to Jeffrey, “what kind of men would treat other human beings like this; this is so wrong.”

               Alexander had parked the van behind the house and waited for the gaggle of young girls to emerge. A second vehicle sat unmanned behind the van, giving the group of retired soldiers the means to quickly leave the premises. The girls all climbed into the van, gave their home addresses and Alexander marked each on the paper map, creating the most efficient path to bring them home. Jeffrey sat in the front passenger seat and talked Alexander through the directions to the first home. “Wow, Alexander, that was a horrible and bloody situation,” he said. “I don’t feel a hint of regret at ending those men. I hope these girls get the therapy they need and recover from this. What a horrible situation.”

               The van slowly and carefully drove away from the back of the house to be followed by their friends in the second vehicle. “Hey, Jeffrey, you need to radio Alan and tell him we’ll come back for him once we drop off the girls at their homes.”

               “Yes, great point, I’ll do that,” Jeffrey responded. “I know I heard multiple gun shots as we were leaving. I’m guessing that was Alan sniping off the men who were waiting in line to come into the house to feed their lust for control and abuse.”

               “Hey, Alan,” Jeffrey said, “how did all of that go for you?”

               “It went great,” he answered, “I took out at least ten men as they approached the front door of the house. I have to admit that was a great feeling knowing that we were helping those who were being abused. I have to say I am really glad I stayed active at the gun range since we returned from Afghanistan.”

               “That is awesome to hear,” Jeffrey said. “We’ll be back to pick you up after we drop off the girls at their homes, it’ll probably be about an hour. So, pack up, stay obscure. I’ll make contact again when we’re close to picking you up.”

               “Perfect, sounds good,” he answered. “I assume I’ll meet you in the alley behind the apartment complex?”

               A few minutes before arriving at the first home, Jeffrey offered the use of his phone to the first girl. “I think you should call your parents and let them know you’ll be home in a few minutes,” he said.

               “Thank you for doing this,” she said. She took the phone, dialed her mother’s number and gave a very brief explanation of her situation. Alexander pulled up in front of the house, and watched two very excited and happy parents emerge from the front door, as their daughter hurried out of the van to turn and wave as they drove away.

               This became a regular pattern at each home. “Wow, this is such a good thing,” Jeffrey said. “We used the skills we have to protect the innocent and remove evil men. It is so fulfilling to see happiness and restoration. I hope these girls are able to work through this. Talk about a traumatic, and psychological devastating situation for all of them. I’m looking forward to watching the news once all of this is revealed to the public.”

               The last girl was dropped off at her home to turn and motion for Jeffrey to get out of the vehicle, to whom she gave a hug and invited him to meet her parents and receive copious thanks, a handshake from her father and a hug from her mother. “We have been watching the news about all of this that has been happening and with the authorities doing nothing to stop it, me and my teammates from Afghanistan knew we needed to do something,” he said. “Seeing your family being made whole again is a beautiful thing.”

               Alexander drove he and Jeffrey back to the apartment complex to retrieve Alan from the alley. “Okay, guys, we need to be discreet about all of this. Do not tell anyone about this and watch the news. This has been a great day. Knowing that we’ve helped the innocent and destroyed a criminal organization that was preying on the weak and innocent.”

               “Now that the full darkness of the evening has fallen,” Alexander said, “we can easily slip back into our homes without drawing attention to ourselves. We need to get together at one of our homes and see what the news says about all of this. It will be thrilling to see the police try to explain what we’ve accomplished when it was something they should have resolved a long time ago.”

               The next evening, all twelve men met at Alexander’s home, ordered pizza delivery, and several six packs of Guinness, as they talked through the latest news reports. “Thankfully, no one saw us enter or leave and there was no cell phone video footage,” Alan said. “Honestly, the police look like a bunch of bumbling fools in the midst of the bloody massacre. Let’s hope that other rape gangs will see this as a hint, wondering that they may be next if this doesn’t change. I would be more than happy to repeat this process if we can find any more of this kind of activity, but we need to be careful.”

“I completely agree,” Anthony said. “There are three more neighborhoods that need our attention. “I suggest we take the same approach as we did at the first neighborhood but we should probably wait a few days before we take on another rape gang. We shouldn’t wait too long because this abuse will continue until we take action. These girls need help and protection and it seems like we are the only ones who are willing to step up and intervene.”

Living with you is a Challenge

 

                Eric sat on the edge of his bed thinking about the many decisions that had been made over the last thirty years and wondering how his current lifestyle would be different if different decisions had been made during this time. His heart and mind were a maelstrom of different ideas, different thoughts, and different paths, forcing him to wonder about a different future. Releasing a long, frustrated sigh, he flopped back onto his mattress and knew that there was only one path forward.

               “A different perspective, I need a different perspective,” he grumbled to himself. Psychologists talk about viewing one’s life and life decisions from a ten-thousand-foot view, I wonder what I’ll see if I take that approach? Feeling like he was in the middle of a tornado, he closed his eyes and saw himself ascending a tower to look down upon the small city in which he and his lived. “They look like ants,” he thought, “maybe I’ll just watch for a while and see what comes from taking on this perspective.”

               The wind was slight and the temperature was comfortably warm, allowing him to focus on everything that was going on far below him. “Okay, be careful, be attentive, and remember what you see from those you know,” he said. It was at that moment that he realized that most of those below him were surrounded by a dark cloud but there were a few who emanated a golden glow but number was very small. “That’s really curious,” he said to himself.

               The sound of someone calling his name pulled him from his vivid imagination and high-level view. Pulling himself to his feet, he descended the stairs to find that dinner was ready and everyone seemed to be grumpy about his late arrival. “Sorry, everyone,” he said, “I dozed off for a few minutes and was having an incredibly vivid dream. Dinner looks really good.”

               Vigorously rubbing his face, he realized that everyone at the table emanated that same golden glow except for one person who was surrounded in a dark cloud and always appeared grumpy and sullen. “Hey, I was thinking that after dinner we all could take a walk and enjoy the sunshine, the gentle breeze, and the beauty of nature.” The response did not come as a surprise, as those who were glowing gold all responded positively and the dark, sullen one, quickly finished her dinner, left the table, and barked orders for everyone to clean up before they all left for their walk.

               Within twenty minutes, everyone completed their dinner, and rose to clear their places, organize the kitchen, find their shoes and jackets and hurry outside for a fun filled family walk, save one person who merely grumbled in her solitude. He and those with him weaved through a number of residential neighborhoods and as they walked, he realized that most of those they passed by or interacted with carried the same dark cloud and sullen attitude.

               “Hey everyone, I have been thinking about how important it is to be filled with joy, to be kind to others, and to always do good to those around you,” he said. “Being a light and a joy to everyone you meet will make our community a better place.” Darkness slowly began to settle, prompting everyone to increase their speed and return home. As they all pushed into the house, Eric found a note on the kitchen table, calling him a number of foul, crude, and vulgar names, complaining that they had all abandoned her and she was now gone forever.

               He quickly shoved the note into his pocket to listen to the children wander around the house calling the name of the one now missing. “It looks like she’s gone,” one of them said. “This is really odd, I wonder why she just disappeared without saying anything?”

               “I don’t think we have anything to worry about,” Eric said. “As you get older and interact with different people, you’ll come to realize that people will oftentimes make bad decisions without giving any consideration to the consequences of their actions. Everyone needs to shower or bathe tonight before going to bed. I guess we’ll see what tomorrow brings.”

               A round of arguments, complaints, and demands for who would shower first erupted as everyone hurried to their bedrooms to gather whatever was necessary to make the evening come to a conclusion. Sixty minutes passed and the final child emerged from the shower with the suggestion that they all watch a movie together before going to bed. “I think that’s a great idea,” Eric said. “It is always good to do things together as a family. I’ll make some popcorn while you all decide on which movie to watch.”

               Bumping around the kitchen, Eric generated two massive bowls of popcorn, and a case of soda from the fridge to find that the children decided on an action movie. He passed out the snacks and drinks, dimmed the lights and called for someone to start the movie so the hour didn’t get too late. “You all have school tomorrow and I have work, so let’s not get to bed too late tonight.”

               The movie ended amidst munching of popcorn and the popping open of soda cans. “Alright, everyone brush your teeth and get to bed as soon as possible,” he said. “I’ll clean up while you get yourselves in order.” Following a mini stampede, the house was silent within twenty minutes, giving him time to get the house clean and in order. “Wow, what a weird night,” he grumbled. “Looking at this from a ten-thousand-foot perspective, I wonder what I’ll find in the morning.”

               “As much as I love a good metaphor,” he thought, “the events of this evening are like someone who deliberately smashes each finger with a hammer without giving any thought of the consequences.” Eric lay down in the center of the living room floor, took several deep breathes, and relaxed every inch of his body. “Alright, get moving,” he grumbled.

               Rising to his feet in a perfectly relaxed state, he locked all the doors and windows to take a shower and climb into an empty bed. “A challenge,” he said to himself, “that is exactly what this evening has become. Living with this kind of nonsense is a serious challenge. I wonder what I’ll find in the morning?”

               Pulled from a beautiful slumber, the door bell stirred him moments after his alarm sounded. “Oof, who would be ringing my doorbell at this hour?” he wondered. He quickly pulled himself from bed, threw on some clothes and hurried to the front door to find two police officers looking depressed and apologetic.

               “Hello, sir,” one of them said. “We have some terrible news to share with you. We received a call from an anonymous caller about four hours ago. They reported that they saw someone throw themselves from a bridge into oncoming traffic to be destroyed after striking the pavement. We were able to gather her information and came over at what seemed like a reasonable time.

               Eric could feel the contents of his stomach rise up into his throat, to then lean upon the doorframe and wonder how he would communicate this message to the still sleeping children. “I am so sorry for your loss, sir,” the other officer said. “We’ll need you to come to the hospital at some point today and confirm her identity.”

               “Yes, of course, I can do that later this morning,” he answered. Eric then watched as the two officers returned to their car and drive away. “Okay, Eric, act normal, get the kids ready for school and invent a story that she will not be returning. You can tell them after you visit the hospital. We’ll consider it abandonment and not suicide.” He slipped into the kitchen and started a large pot of oatmeal to fill the children with a meal of nutritional value.

               “Okay, Eric, you need to come up with a believable story, so the kids won’t see through the deception. Oh, I know, I’ll say that she stopped by to say that she would never return and had more important things to do.” The padding of feet sounded on the stairs and he was soon joined by all five children at the dining room table. Breakfast was served, the food was consumed, and the children quickly changed into their school clothes to disappear for the day.

               As he watched the school buses come and go, he collapsed on the couch, knowing that he had an unavoidable journey to the hospital to confirm her identity. After two hours of work from home, he explained his situation to his boss and made the tragic journey across town to the hospital. He inquired at the front desk, explained the situation, and was given directions to the morgue. He approached the door and was invited in as the doctor in charge pulled back the sheet to expose a pale and slightly blue face. “Ugh, yes, that is her,” he said. “This is not how a relationship is supposed to end.”

               “I’ll give you a few minutes, sir,” the doctor said. “I need to go upstairs to a meeting for about an hour. You can speak whatever words you need to say. Let yourself out when you have exhausted your thoughts and ideas.”

               Eric looked down at the cold and lifeless corpse. “This is so stupid, you idiot,” he said. “All of this should not have happened this way. You clearly didn’t think about the final consequences of your actions. Living with you was a challenge but you clearly put an end to all of it. How am I going to explain this to the kids?”

               He returned home, completed his last six hours of work, began preparing dinner and welcomed each child when they entered the home. As they gathered together for dinner, Eric cleared his throat and explained that he had some terrible news to share. The look of despair on their faces tore at his heart. “I don’t know if anyone heard the doorbell this morning, but your mother stopped by and declared that she would never return and had better things to do. So, from now on, it will be you kids and me keeping everything in order. We have no way to communicate or connect with her; she gave no more information other than the fact that she would not return.”

Look at What You've Done

 

            Annabelle grew up in an abusive situation, her mother hated her, told her she was ugly and fat and good for nothing other than to be used by men. “If you make yourself easily accessible and willing to do whatever any man tells you to do, you will be able to earn a great deal of money.” These words played over and over in Annabelle’s mind for months and years, not knowing to believe anything else, she simply trusted her mother’s direction and followed her advice.

               As she reached her sixteenth year, she found that many of the boys at school were more than happy to pay her a lot of money to give herself to them, to be used by them, and to eventually fade away as nothing more than an object for pleasure. As hundreds of dollars came to her each week, she began to purchase the things that made her happy; clothing, perfume, jewelry, birth control pills, and the morning after pill.

               She continued this for the next six years as she finished high school and university. After graduating from university, she eventually figured out that her current path of earning money greatly exceeded her vocational salary. She remained living with her parents until she graduated and was disgusted to be regularly visited by her father, her uncles, her brothers, and her cousins, all demanding the same attention.

               Weeks turned into months which turned into years and her bank account continued to grow and her soul eventually become an aching void of feeling used and abused. “I have had enough of this,” she grumbled to herself, “now is the time to find my own apartment and focus my attention on my regular job. I am done being the play thing for so many random men who truly don’t care about me.”

               Annabelle spent every evening after work, searching for an apartment that was relatively close to her place of work. After three weeks of searching, she found the perfect apartment that was close enough for her to walk to work and allowed her to avoid her lecherous family. Using her feminine charm, she convinced four men from her place of work to help her load her things into a moving truck and unload them into her new apartment. Her efforts paid off and at the same time she needed to offer the use of her body to pay for their help.

               Moving day arrived and Annabelle reserved a moving truck, walked to the rental company, paid the necessary fees and met her four workers at her parent’s home. The five of them emptied her room in less than one hour, loaded the truck, and quickly transferred all of her belongings into her new apartment. All four men offered to help her unpack, set up furniture, and receive their payment before they left for the day. In a whirlwind of attention, Annabelle watched as all four men left at the same time, leaving her feeling sore and tired.

               “Phew, no more of that,” she said out loud. “I will be perfectly happy if I never interact with another man for the rest of my life.” As she listened to the front door close, she crawled from her bed, crossed through the living room, and locked the door. “Wow, that was really rough,” she said. “I need to take a shower and get something to eat.” Limping into the bathroom, she took a relatively cool shower, washed her hair, dressed in comfortable clothes, and called for a food delivery service to bring her dinner.

               Within forty-five minutes, a knock sounded on her front door to reveal a college age girl holding her still hot dinner. “Oh, thank goodness,” she said. “I am starving. Here’s your tip. Have a good day.” She paused to look around her apartment which had been beautifully set up and arranged to then sit down at the dining room table. “I need some music,” she thought. “That will take my mind off of things and maybe I can put together a different approach to life.”

               As she finished her dinner of Mexican food, with a side of chips and salsa, she was happy to find a bottle of fruit juice in her fridge. Releasing a wide and aggressive yawn, she looked at the time and realized that it was only seven o’clock in the evening. “Wow, I am so tired, I guess I should not be surprised at that,” she thought. “Moving all of that furniture and the big group thing that happened just a couple of hours ago. I need to go to bed early.”

               Staying in her comfortable clothes, she stretched out on the living room floor, and performed about twenty minutes of yoga to relax her body. “What is going on outside?” she wondered. “Look at that, what a beautiful sunset,” as she peeked through the blinds. “I should probably make an effort to meet some of my neighbors, that can wait until tomorrow or the next day, I suppose.”

               Stepping away from the window, she shuffled into her bedroom, put away her clothes, set up her clock, changed her sheets, and snuggled under two cozy blankets. Waking up in absolute darkness, Annabelle felt confused with her surroundings, eventually remembering that she had moved into a new location to see that it was already one in the morning. The sound of someone banging on her door ripped her from her much needed sleep. She put on her slippers, peeked through the door viewer and saw her father staring at her door with his arms folded, looking very angry.

               “Nope, I am not opening this door,” she thought. “I am going back to sleep. I need to be rested for the next day of work.” Sliding back under her covers, she drifted once again into sleep to again be wakened by more knocking. “This is dumb,” she grumbled. “Call the police, Annabelle,” she told herself. She dialed 911 and reported that someone was causing a great deal of noise and aggression outside of her apartment door. Within thirty minutes, she saw a police cruiser approach the building, to then watch two officers enter the building.

               Stepping to the door viewer, she watched as the police officers hauled her angry father away from her door, down the stairs, and place him in the back of their car. “Oh, thank God,” she said. “Now I can go back to sleep without being interrupted again.” Annabelle was pulled from sleep by her six o’clock alarm. “Ugh, well at least I feel rested now. I hope I can find something for breakfast before I go to work.”

               Freshly showered, she dressed for a day of professional work, quietly left the apartment building and began her short walk to work. “Oof, I am so hungry, I guess I can pick up some pastries and a coffee on my walk,” she thought. Smiling and waving at a few people as she left her apartment building, she spied a coffee shop a few blocks ahead, which offered a large variety of breakfast foods.

               Walking, drinking, and eating, she finished her small meal before arriving at work. She took her place at her desk and worked very hard to avoid interacting with the four men who helped her move the day before. “That’s it, no more men for me,” she grumbled. “What does a new life for Annabelle look like now?” she wondered. “I wonder if I can find a good man who will genuinely love me for who I am and not for what he can take from me?”

               Three months passed and she began interacting with multiple people in her apartment building. Her dream came true when she met a handsome and kind young man about her age on the floor below hers. He introduced himself as Timothy, invited her out for dinner, and the two of them spent the following Friday evening enjoying a pleasant meal, a long genuine conversation, to learn the details of one another’s lives. Annabelle of course, did not reveal her lecherous past and invented a story about a kind, loving family and her great success at work, and in investing.

               Two years passed and Timothy eventually proposed to Annabelle, giving them a few months to plan for the wedding. When the wedding invitation list was formed, Annabelle only invited friends, inventing the story that her family lived on the opposite side of the country and were not willing to travel to attend the wedding. The few months passed, Timothy and Annabelle enjoyed a beautiful wedding ceremony, and a three-week honeymoon in Paris, France.

               Their marriage started out as a beautiful relationship to eventually slide into a cacophony of anger, mistrust, and empty accusations. On several occasions, Annabelle caught Timothy spending time with other women, whom he had met on various dating services, which only fed the fuel of her anger and disappointment. In the face of gross adultery, she filed for divorce and once again found herself alone and wondering what she had done wrong.

               “You didn’t do anything wrong, Annabelle,” she told herself. “It seems that all men are the same. I am so disappointed. I guess I’ll need to find some girlfriends who will not betray my trust or turn against me.” Chapter three of Annabelle’s life turned out to be radically different than the first two chapters. Now with a friendly and chatty roommate, she found a good and true friend who cared for her, and asked her questions to help her make her life a good and beautiful thing.

               Annabelle and her roommate Jennifer, slowly grew old together, never having children, and both vowing to never be involved with men ever again. Jennifer reached her eighty-fifth year and Annabelle found that her life had come to an end one morning when she woke up early to check on her friend. “Oh, this is terrible,” she thought, “now I’m alone again. I guess I ought to call 911 and find out what we need to do.”

               Annabelle sat on her couch, curled up in a ball, and watched as the EMT’s rolled the gurney out of their apartment with a cold and lifeless Jennifer. Three hours later, a grief counselor came to her door to offer words of consolation and questions about her plans now that she was alone.

               “Thank you for coming over,” Annabelle said. “I am getting very old so maybe I’ll move into an assisted care facility so I can be with others like myself.”

               “I believe that is a great idea,” the woman said. “I can suggest a few locations and I can take you can visit each one so you can make an informed decision. It is not good for someone to be alone all the time. I’ll return tomorrow afternoon with this information and we can work through it together. I believe this is a good path for you. I am sorry for your loss. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

               The two women hugged, said goodbye again and wiped tears from their eyes. Annabelle returned to her couch, wrapped herself in a blanket and resumed her balled up position, feeling empty and lonely, wondering what the rest of the evening and the next day would look like.

              

An Unending Descent

 

            Alexander sat in his living room watching the news which gave consistent reports of the descent of a neighboring country into chaos, suffering, and death. After two months of watching this constant feed of depression, he pulled away from it, wondering if another country would intervene and assist in slowing the descent into devastation. “You are what you take in,” he said to himself. “I really don’t need to be involved in this consistent feed of pain and suffering. There is really nothing that I, as an individual can do to help.”

               Still wearing his pajamas from that morning, he shuffled into his bathroom, washed his hands and face, combed his hair and made the decision to dress into his workout clothes and get into the sunshine outside. Before stepping outside, he worked through a long series of stretches and memories of those he knew, drawing a painful parallel between the horrible news and the life of one of his former associates.

               “Phew, okay, time to get outside and enjoy the warmth and fresh air,” he thought. Before leaving through his front door, he filled a water bottle to take with him, knowing that a long walk in this kind of heat would require additional hydration. As he reached the sidewalk, he created a picture in his mind of his path forward, making a deliberate decision to walk past the home of a former friend who had betrayed him so many years before.

               He began his walk and covered about two miles distance, to slow down as he passed by her house to see an overgrown lawn, a broken-down vehicle in the driveway, and overall decay of the home. “Man, that is so sad,” he muttered. “You really have to wonder what someone is thinking to allow themselves to continue down a path of self-destruction.”

               After passing through three different neighborhoods, he reached a series of strip malls and was moved to buy a dozen doughnuts to enjoy during the coming week. He slipped into a small bakery, purchased a dozen maple bars, left a substantial tip, and continued his journey on the path he had previously envisioned. The beautiful and well-manicured homes of the local neighborhoods transitioned into strip malls, and eventually into poverty-stricken inner city.

                As he reached the edge of the inner city, he could see dozens of scantily clad women standing on the corner one block ahead of him. “I am not going to continue in that direction,” he grumbled. “The last thing I want is to be approached by, or interact with women like that. Hey, wait a minute, that’s my former friend who turned away from me so long ago, and started down the path of self-destruction. Seeing her like this explains why her life and her home look the way they do.”

               Alexander stopped at the corner, crossed the street, and began his journey back home. “This is a horrible situation,” he thought. “Just like the devastation going on in the news, there is nothing I can do to help this situation. If someone refuses an offer of help, refuses to talk, and is intent on continuing into self-destruction, there is nothing I can do.” Continuing for half a block, he sat down on a bench at the edge of a park and looked back at the collection of sad, broken, and corrupted women.

               “Wow, this is so bad and ugly,” he muttered. As he slowly consumed a single doughnut, he watched as one woman after another climbed into various vehicles, selling themselves for cash. “What kind of mindset must a woman be in to put herself into that situation,” he wondered. “The psychological torment, the abuse, and the soul crushing interaction is hardly worth any large amount of money.”

               Tempted to begin on a second doughnut, he resisted the urge, brushed the crumbs from his fingers and lap and continued his journey home. As he passed the residence of his former associate, he saw a car pull into her driveway as she and an elderly man climbed from the vehicle to slip inside the house. “Like I said earlier, there is nothing I can do if someone wants to make bad decisions that will ultimately ruin their life.”

               In what became a pattern every six days, he eventually finished his bag of doughnuts, began taking walks on his predetermined path, to see the home of his former associate continue its decline into chaos and noise. “I really need to buy another bag of doughnuts,” he said, after entering and leaving the store, he avoided the corner a block ahead of him. “Same as always, I really have no interest in weaving through that ugly situation or interacting with women like that.”

               In what became a regular pattern for him, he turned one block early, sat on the park bench and felt sad for the decisions that so many women like this were making. After finishing his one doughnut, he rose to his feet, and continued his path home, to once again see his former associate enter her decaying home with another strange, elderly man. “Oof, what a life to live, what a price to pay in order to take in enough money,” he lamented. “Too bad, so sad.”

               This regular pattern continued for five more years and after the passing of this time, he no longer saw his former associate on the corner. “Getting too old for that kind of work, I suppose,” he said. “Now what is she going to do?” He knew that she had children that were most likely being neglected and possibly abused, feeling sick at the idea of children being subjected to that sort of lifestyle and corruption.

               “Okay, no more doughnuts,” he said to himself. “I think I’ll swing through the grocery store and buy some fruit instead.” The closest grocery store was three blocks past the corner of corruption and depravity. Instead of stopping for doughnuts, he moved to the other side of the street, continued on his way and purchased a bag of apples. As he watched the corner full of women on his way home, he felt sick inside at the young age of so many of them. “This is just so wrong,” he grumbled.

               “All of this walking and change to healthy eating will certainly improve my quality of life,” he said to himself. As Alexander approached the home of his former associate, he was shocked to see that the house was for sale, the yard had been cleaned and organized and he wondered what exactly had happened to come to this. “I guess we’ll see if someone decent buys the house and takes care of it.”

               He returned home with his bag of apples, retrieved his mail from his mailbox and found an invitation to a funeral three days hence. Unlocking his front door, he dropped his apples into his refrigerator, sat down, and opened the invitation. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” he grumbled, “it is exactly who I knew it would be. I suppose the decent thing would be to attend the service and interact with everyone there. Not like I really have any interest in being there but I should do the right thing.”

               Now being fully retired, he rose early that morning, showered, dressed in his best clothing and drove to the cemetery for the service. “Would you look at that,” he said, “I am only seeing about eight people standing around the gravesite.” He parked a short distance away, slowly approached the small group, smiled and said hello to listen to an unknown pastor talk about the departed in words that were easily too kind and actually dishonest.

               The pastor finished his short eulogy and invited anyone else to offer a few words if they had any. No one took advantage of his offer and Alexander casually interacted with the few people there, asking questions about how they knew her, what was the cause of her demise and if she had any family in the area. He learned that she had died from multiple STD’s and loneliness, reaching an age when her chosen line of work was no longer possible.

               Offering words of consolation to those who attended her funeral, he departed alone, returned home, and placed a few phone calls with those who formerly knew her or had been friends with her in the past. Communicating the sad news of her demise, he did his best to speak highly of her without sounding judgmental. After multiple phone calls, he and some of them agreed to gather for a small reunion and possibly dinner.

               He felt torn up inside as he thought about the troubling past, the terrible path that she had chosen to finish her life and the negative impact those choices had upon those who knew her, were related to her, and were devastated at her path into a life of corruption and deception. Alexander spent the next three hours wondering about the meaning of it all and if there was anything he could do to help those impacted by her choice of lifestyle.

               Four more days passed and after a pleasant meal with former friends, he relived fond memories, good vacations, and time with her and them, to find himself aching inside when he returned home. “Alright then, time to move forward because now there is nothing else that can be done, other than making the best version of myself as I move through the next several decades.”

I'll Meet You at the End

 

            It was an attraction of opposites that left most people baffled and confused. Similar to combining water and oil, they mixed for a little while and eventually struggled through the disconnect and made it work. Promises were made with the best of intentions, ideas were formed based on guesswork and hopes for change and after decades of hard work, interaction, and faithfulness, eventually the entire situation fell apart.

               One gave up and the other continued to be faithful, committed and passionate about achieving resolution. The day finally came when unfaithfulness won the battle, disappointment filled every corner of every conversation, and the weight of failure brought despair and anger to the surface. After many months of the one no longer caring or no longer trying to find resolution, the truth of the situation came to a head, revealing an adulterous relationship that seemed to be more important than anything else.

               Money became the driving force behind every decision, all of the decades of hard work were thrown away as if the hoped for future would provide something better. Like watching a beautiful building that had been decades under construction burn to the ground with no one seeming to care. Like finding a container of food in the back of the refrigerator that had become green and hairy, everything was thrown away to begin something new.

               After several years of separation, it became obvious that money was the most important aspect of the new reality. Promises that had been made by some and others, some of these turned into nothing of value and some of them proved to be lies and deception. Every effort was made by one of them while the other was more focused on vanity, finances, and creating a good image for others to observe and comment on.

               Like someone in the midwestern states on their front porch watching a tornado pass by destroying and devouring everything in its path, all of the hard work obviously became nothing of importance. Like metal left out in the rain to eventually become nothing but a pile of rust and waste, a new beginning was clearly the new reality. So much hard work, so much commitment, and so many plans that never came to fruition, reality was now redefined.

               Many more years passed, which turned into decades and one watched as the other transitioned into emptiness, ingratitude, and selfishness, bringing about nothing of value for the one but great success and a glorious future for the other. Old age became the new reality with fatigue, aches, and glorious plans by one and not the other. Solitude became reality for one and not the other, which eventually led to grief, isolation, and nothing of value for the near future.

               Animosity, anger, and disappointment became the new reality for one and not the other, all of this due to obvious dishonesty, unkind words, and jealousy. One of them grew in new relationships, new friends, and a new community which eventually led to a path that led toward holiness and growth. One could feel the end drawing near, with a great desire to communicate a message to the other, knowing what awaited them on the other side but uncertain about the status of the other on the other side.

               “I’ll meet you at the end,” was the message he wished he could communicate. One watched from a distance, wondering what was taking place inside the mind and heart of the other, wondering what had happened so many years before to lead them to this place and situation. Age was catching up to both of them, hair was becoming gray, wrinkles were appearing, some relationships were destroyed, while others were created, sometimes based on deception and plastic images.

               A radical new reality stepped into place, bringing with it new opportunities, new plans to be formed and pursued, and hopes for something greater and better than had ever been possible before. “Age is irrelevant,” one said to himself, “there is so much to be done, so much to accomplish, and a great deal of good that can be brought to completion.” Making the most of his time, one continued their path of success refusing to be distracted by the emptiness and inanity of the culture around him.

               From one perspective, everything seemed to be falling apart, from the other perspective many great things were being accomplished which were leading to improvements, growth, and maturity. The deception caught up with the one while the other continued to ask questions, find answers, and bring restoration to as many categories of life.

               More years continued to pass and they watched the details of how reality was slowly transitioning, leaving one in isolation and solitude, while the other was developing great new, healthy relationships, new friends, and a new community, all of which brought joy and happiness. The other began to wonder where they had gone wrong, eventually realizing that decisions were made that led to this place with nothing of value to show for it.

               The old relationship was now dead, with no genuine interaction, no communication, and nothing of value passing between them. They both continued to grow old, watching marriages take place, grandchildren born, with regret for one but not the other. Both knowing that the meeting at the end of time would come sooner than expected, communication was fabricated, dialog that would most likely never take place, and restoration that would never be.

               The emptiness and vanity of their differing cultures gave one of them nothing of value and they waited for the transition from the current reality into the eternal reality. A life of empty distraction brought no joy, no satisfaction, and no true happiness for the one, while the other put great effort into ignoring the worldly culture that surrounded them, while the other seemed to joyfully embrace the inanity of it all.

               With a perfectly sized new home, graciously remodeled and beautifully crafted, showing the difference of internal versus external. One lived a life that was only thin, cheap, and hollow, while the other crafted every aspect of life toward truth and beauty, pressing toward goodness and love. The end of the first century of their lives drew near and they both wondered who would be the first to depart. One of them watched and wondered while the other finally let go to drift into eternity.

               “Well, there you have it,” one of them said. “I wonder how long I have before I can communicate the final message when we meet on the other side?”

               He spent the next ten years being creative, interacting with his children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren, knowing that his time would eventually come to an end. Many years before he created an emergency contact list for the day when someone would find him cold and stiff in his beautiful home. Sleeping more than he had in the past, he spent his time reading, learning, creating, and making new friends.

               Eventually crawling out of bed around ten in the morning, he put on several layers of clothing, started a pot of coffee, enjoyed peanut butter toast and bacon to sit down with his latest piece of non-fiction to fill his heart with truth and love. He noticed that his hands and feet had grown strangely cold, despite the fact that he was wearing three pairs of socks and multiple layers of clothing.

               “Phew, why am I so tired?” he wondered. Placing his book on the coffee table before him, he pulled himself to his feet and returned to bed to try to warm up. Within minutes of lying down, he was joined by two very large, flabby cats who understood his need to be warmed up. Drifting into what seemed a beautiful dream, he ascended into eternity to find that many of his loved ones from the past were waiting for him with open arms.

               When he landed on the edge of a beautiful grassy field, he saw her, remembered his comment crafted so many years before, approached her and said, “Well, here we are, like I wondered so many years before, I’ll meet you at the end.” Oddly, she seemed stuck in place while he continued his path toward the glorious light that was relatively close in the distance.

               “I’m sorry you made the choices you did,” he said as he departed. “I’ve got important things to do and people to see. This is our new reality and to me it seems glorious, but you seem to be stuck in place, the result of your lifetime of decisions.”

Not One but Two

 

            Menander was the only child and grew up knowing only comfort, wealth, luxury, and always getting what he wanted whenever he wanted it. On occasion he would listen to himself grumbling and complaining that he was bored, that he no friends, and wishing that he could do something that would distract him and occupy his ever-active mind. After three or four times of this type of complaint, he began to receive a back hand slap from his father with a reminder to never complain because he had more than most children his age.

               Whenever he received this sort of chastisement and correction, he would hide away in his room, continue complaining to himself, and wondering what life was like for other children who did not know or appreciate comfort and wealth. He pulled himself from the floor, flopped onto his bed and stared into the ceiling, feeling a combination of frustration and boredom.

               “Ugh, time to take a shower,” he said to himself. Setting the temperature slightly above body temperature, he stepped out, dried himself, dressed and descended to the kitchen to cut himself a piece of cheesecake with cherry topping. He sat alone at the kitchen counter having no desire to join his parents in the sitting room to listen to more chastisement and words about being thankful.

               He finished his dessert; hand washed his plate and fork and returned them to their appropriate places in the cupboards. Knowing that it would not be wise to simply disappear for the evening, he peeked into the sitting room, said goodnight, and thanked his mother for the cheesecake. Padding upstairs, he brushed his teeth, slipped into his oversize bed, and immediately fell asleep to dream about a life without comfort, safety, or loving parents.

               Menander woke the next morning to find himself in a lumpy, thin, and cold bed, surrounded by dozens of children in similar beds in the orphanage. Vigorously rubbing his face, he rose from his cold and uncomfortable state to get dressed in his state supplied, stiff and scratchy clothing. Like soldiers in a barracks, he and the other children walked in unison to the dining hall to eat a small portion of lukewarm porridge and cool water.

               “Wow, so this is what it is like,” he thought. “I am so confused. Has everything else been simply a dream? I guess I’ll just go along with what everyone else is doing and see how the rest of the day plays out.” He finished his porridge, rose from his seat and joined the rest of the children in the play yard behind the building. A rousing game of kickball started where Menander was chosen first to slowly watch the two teams build up, one obviously stronger than the other.

               The two dozen children ran in an aggressive manner, each team scoring the occasional point. Menander watched Boris, the school bully viciously kick and punch another student for being stupid and ugly. “Wow, that is just so wrong,” he said to himself. “Do I dare stand up to Boris or simply let it go. I know I could take him down and teach him a lesson. Now is the time to do the right thing.”

               He stopped running, aligned himself directly behind Boris, out of his line of sight, and rushed up to him to kick him directly in the groin and watch him collapse to the ground in agony. “Don’t pick on the little kids,” he growled at the large and ignorant fellow student. “Bad actions always lead to bad actions coming upon you.”

               The kickball game came to an end with Menander’s team winning, which was immediately followed by their return into the building for lunch. All twenty-four children shuffled into the dining hall and seated themselves upon the cold metal benches to wait until lukewarm soup and baloney sandwiches were ready. The lunch bell sounded, they rose from their places and stood in line to receive their plastic molded lunch trays laden with bland and lukewarm food.

               He finished his lunch, returned his tray to the collection window and was immediately confronted by the headmaster of the orphanage. “Menander, I need you to come with me,” he said. “I saw what you did to Boris and we need to talk.”

               “Yes, sir,” Menander answered. Boy and headmaster walked through the dining hall, ascended the stairs and entered the headmaster’s office.

               “I understand your desire for justice and kindness for the weak,” he said, “but we cannot have violence like that. I have been speaking to Boris about his abuse of the other students, so please allow me to do my job and don’t assault the other students.  Oh, one other thing. There is a husband and wife that are coming in this afternoon and they are interested in meeting with you. Please be ready by three o’clock to meet them. One of the secretaries will come for you when they arrive.”

               “Yes, sir, I will be ready,” he answered. “I think I will go take a short nap so I am rested and attentive when they arrive. Thank you, sir.”

               Menander removed his shoes, collapsed on his bed, and fell asleep, while the other children came and went from the bedrooms. At two-forty-five, the alarm on his watch sounded, pulling him from sleep. “Ah, perfect,” he said. “This will give me a few minutes to freshen up, use the bathroom, and be ready to meet these people.”

               As he rose from his bed, he slipped on his shoes, did those things that needed to be done to then return to sit on the side of his bed and wait for the secretary to retrieve him for the meeting. He and the secretary walked into the headmaster’s office to see the young couple waiting for him facing the other direction. He walked in, introduced himself, shook hands with the husband and exchanged a hug with the wife. The husband slid a chair from the opposite side of the room to face them in order to have a conversation to learn about one another.

               With his mind swirling, he stared at their faces and was stirred inside as she realized that these were the people from his dreams about a large, comfortable, wealthy home filled with love, protection, and kindness. The conversation between Menander, the husband, the wife, and the headmaster lasted for a few minutes over an hour.

               “Menander, you should go to your bedroom, pack all of your things, and we will take care of the paperwork for you to join the Johannsen’s in their home. Be quick and have everything ready. When the paperwork is complete, we will have all of your possessions brought to their car so you can move on with your life. Congratulations, my boy.”

               He could feel himself tingling inside, wondering if the house in his dreams would look anything like the Johannsen’s home. “I guess I’ll find out in a few minutes,” he thought to himself. “Yes, sir, I’ll go right away and be ready. Thank you.” Menander once again shook hands with the husband and exchanged hugs with the wife.

               He sprinted up the stairs, entered his bedroom, and quickly packed all of his possessions and clothing into a suitcase and two boxes. Trembling with excitement, he sat on the edge of his bed, waiting for the Johannsen’s to arrive and go to his forever home. He stood up, did a bit of stretching, said goodbye to the other orphans, and promised to write them on occasion with the expectation that they would write back as well.

               He and the Johannsen’s loaded his things into the trunk of their car and drove away, as he looked back one last time at the orphanage that he thought would always be his home until he reached adulthood. The car pulled into the driveway in a wealthy neighborhood and with a thrill in his heart, he realized that the house from his dreams was an identical match to this home before him.

               Mr. Johannsen carried his two boxes and Menander carried his suitcase to follow them up the stairs into his large and comfortable bedroom with its own private bathroom.

               “You can place your suitcase on the bed, Menander,” Mrs. Johannsen said. “After lunch, you and I can unpack and help you get settled.” She took him by the hand and the three of them walked down the stairs into the kitchen for a robust and warm lunch.

               “Thank you so much for choosing me,” Menander said. “I have been dreaming of having my own family for several years now. Please forgive me if I don’t get everything right. It will take me some time to adjust and learn what a family feels like.”

               “Don’t concern yourself with that, young man,” Mr. Johannsen said. “We understand that this will be a time of learning and transition for you. We will work through this together. Both you and I and Mrs. Johannsen all have a great deal to learn. I know this will be a good time for all of us.”

               “Oh, my goodness, this food is so good,” he said. “The food at the orphanage is usually lukewarm and very plain. I know I will be saying thank you many, many times as I learn to be part of the family.”

               “We are very happy that you are here with us,” Mrs. Johannsen said. “Let’s finish our lunch and then you and I can unpack your things, help you get settled and see if there is anything you need to feel at home. We can always go shopping any time there is a need.”

               The meal was complete, Menander and Mrs. Johannsen ascended the stairs, unpacked his things and embraced in a warm, mother son type of hug. “I think we should go shopping to buy you some new clothes,” she said. “This will be so much fun. I am so excited to take on this responsibility as your mother and help you feel comfortable. Let’s go talk to Mr. Johannsen and make a trip to a few stores.”