The six year old appears bedside in the dark, wants to know if he can go downstairs and write.
“I’ll get up and write with you.”
He’s written a war story called The Attack of the Red Army. It’s three chapters long.
In chapter one Sam and Jacob are enjoying the last bit of summer sun. By the fireplace.
When Jacob asks what there is to eat, Sam lists apple pie & mac-n-cheese; hot chocolate, various juices, tea, coffee, water, wine & beer.
“I will have pie with beer.”
Startled by a loud sound and “A very hard and strong bump,” the two speculate that maybe there’s a war. Sam gets on his boots but it’s turned chilly, so he returns for a jacket, advises Jacob to put on his jacket. They step outside.
Sam was right: there was a war.
In the concluding chapter the two hear the loudest sound they had heard in their lives. Gunfire! The red army was attacking the blue army.
The story ends here, and I’m grateful for this, too.
Grateful for family, friends, health. Grateful for brothers looking out for brothers. Grateful for pie and beer and the people we share them with.