Time to Go

Marshall sat the bags next to the door. One duffel bag was full of clothes; the other was food. This can’t be everything, he thought. We must need something more. Soap? Cell Phones? God, what are we going to need out there?

Meanwhile, Ben was trying to fit all of his stuffed animals into his bright red rolling suitcase. He was sniffling, wiping the dried tears from his face. His bag was full, and all around him he was counting things he couldn’t fit. There were toys he would never play with again, puffy snow boots he wouldn’t wear, pictures of his friends he would never see. The tears started flowing again.

“I know it’s hard buddy. We’ve got to go.” Marshall whispered from the doorway. He was holding a plastic bag full of odds and ends from around the house.

“No!” Ben yelled, “I’m not going and that’s final!”

Marshall dropped the bag and ran to Ben. He pressed his hand over his mouth. Ben was shifting nervously, sobbing into his father’s hand. Marshall’s head was raised, listening for any movement outside. For an endless moment, the two sat frozen on the floor, wrapped around each other, silent.

“Ben,” Marshall spoke with the quiet anger his son had learned to fear, “We can’t stay here. We can’t bring much. We can’t say goodbye. But I am going to keep you safe. Do you believe me when I say I can keep you safe?”

Ben’s face was shaking, trying to hold back more tears. He nodded.

“That’s a good boy.” Marshall grabbed one of the stuffed bears from the floor and added it to the plastic bag. He picked up his son in his other arm and ran for the door. “It’s time, Ben. Let’s go.”