How can I make up for taking mom away from her?
“Bye!” the twins say in unison, only one is much weaker than the other.
“Don’t go too far!” I call out after Jo.
“Yes, sir!” replies Jo, saluting me with disdain.
After a little bit of work, I get a fire growing in the stove and grab the big basin from the stove top with the dinner's dishes inside. Sara and I dry the dishes together and she helps me stack them neatly on the table.
“Do you need me to do anything else?” she asks willingly. She wants to help me more.
“No, go play.” I add.
“With what?” she inquires while shrugging her shoulders and putting her hands in the air. She smiles.
“Be creative.”
“Oh, alright.” She grins and jumps to the other bunk and fiddles with something.
I grab the basin to rinse it outside. The pump is just around the side of the cabin, and with only a few pumps, it loyally spouts cool well water. God help us if this thing breaks.
I muse for a little bit too long over the mechanics of a spout, and some water spills out of the tipped pot, splashing freezing water onto my ankles. A few curses escape my mouth as I shake the water from the bucket. I turn back toward the cabin. It is getting darker much more quickly than I expected.
More quickly than I'm sure Jo had expected, too.
As I round the house with the basin in hand, something catches my eye and I step back up behind the corner. A dark figure moved among some trees. Was it an animal? My eyes squint. The person moves again. I slowly set down the bucket.
“No… not right now,” I whisper to myself. After peeking around again, I see that he’s walking with his head down. He may not have seen me.
The answer is all too obvious as the wisps of smoke blowing from the chimney grab my attention- he’s here for our food and supplies. The images of the raging man at the grocery store come back to my mind. I won’t give him the opportunity to harm the girls. There will be no talking this time. I need to act first.
Fifty feet. The man is pretty clear, now. He looks to be a bit shorter than six feet, but in reasonable shape. There’s a hiking backpack strapped to him which could slow him down significantly. He walks slowly and slightly crouched, with his gaze almost directly at his feet. Maybe he doesn't want to be seen-maybe he doesn't want to scare anyone? No. he's trying to hide. He wants to sneak up on us.
That’s it. Once he’s past that corner, I’ll close the gap and take him out.
Switching to the other back corner of the house, I watch as he nears the opposite front corner, still walking toward the door. He lifts his head up, apparently making sure he’s still headed in the right direction. I will have a few moments where his back will be toward me as he goes to the door.
He seems tired. It makes no difference. He won’t know what hit him. Three… two… one…
He passes the corner, and I’m at a dead sprint. Even if he hears me at this point, it’s going to take a second to register, and I’ll be on top of him. He’s only a quarter of the way through turning around, and I’ve left the ground, my shoulder lined up with his gut and my hands extend for his wrists.
“Oof!” I hear as my shoulder drives the breath out of his body. He goes down easily, as the backpack is already weighing him down. I’ve gotten my
“Bye!” the twins say in unison, only one is much weaker than the other.
“Don’t go too far!” I call out after Jo.
“Yes, sir!” replies Jo, saluting me with disdain.
After a little bit of work, I get a fire growing in the stove and grab the big basin from the stove top with the dinner's dishes inside. Sara and I dry the dishes together and she helps me stack them neatly on the table.
“Do you need me to do anything else?” she asks willingly. She wants to help me more.
“No, go play.” I add.
“With what?” she inquires while shrugging her shoulders and putting her hands in the air. She smiles.
“Be creative.”
“Oh, alright.” She grins and jumps to the other bunk and fiddles with something.
I grab the basin to rinse it outside. The pump is just around the side of the cabin, and with only a few pumps, it loyally spouts cool well water. God help us if this thing breaks.
I muse for a little bit too long over the mechanics of a spout, and some water spills out of the tipped pot, splashing freezing water onto my ankles. A few curses escape my mouth as I shake the water from the bucket. I turn back toward the cabin. It is getting darker much more quickly than I expected.
More quickly than I'm sure Jo had expected, too.
As I round the house with the basin in hand, something catches my eye and I step back up behind the corner. A dark figure moved among some trees. Was it an animal? My eyes squint. The person moves again. I slowly set down the bucket.
“No… not right now,” I whisper to myself. After peeking around again, I see that he’s walking with his head down. He may not have seen me.
The answer is all too obvious as the wisps of smoke blowing from the chimney grab my attention- he’s here for our food and supplies. The images of the raging man at the grocery store come back to my mind. I won’t give him the opportunity to harm the girls. There will be no talking this time. I need to act first.
Fifty feet. The man is pretty clear, now. He looks to be a bit shorter than six feet, but in reasonable shape. There’s a hiking backpack strapped to him which could slow him down significantly. He walks slowly and slightly crouched, with his gaze almost directly at his feet. Maybe he doesn't want to be seen-maybe he doesn't want to scare anyone? No. he's trying to hide. He wants to sneak up on us.
That’s it. Once he’s past that corner, I’ll close the gap and take him out.
Switching to the other back corner of the house, I watch as he nears the opposite front corner, still walking toward the door. He lifts his head up, apparently making sure he’s still headed in the right direction. I will have a few moments where his back will be toward me as he goes to the door.
He seems tired. It makes no difference. He won’t know what hit him. Three… two… one…
He passes the corner, and I’m at a dead sprint. Even if he hears me at this point, it’s going to take a second to register, and I’ll be on top of him. He’s only a quarter of the way through turning around, and I’ve left the ground, my shoulder lined up with his gut and my hands extend for his wrists.
“Oof!” I hear as my shoulder drives the breath out of his body. He goes down easily, as the backpack is already weighing him down. I’ve gotten my
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