The Insurrection

Chapter Eight

"Our children are our only hope for the future, but we are their only hope for their present and their future." ~ Zig Ziglar

"I think it is safe to say that much of what we do is for our children. All these months of work that we put in for a better World are more for them than it is for ourselves. So, it is time to make this World a safe place for them to live, grow, and prosper in. A place where they no longer have to look over their shoulders or question the authenticity of their friends. A place where they can be kids again. Because these kids today, are this World's future. It's time to give them the life they deserve so that when we are long gone, they can do the same for their kids."

Taika steps off the stage and I try to swallow multiple times to ease the lump in my throat. Taika and Leon both look at me worriedly and share a glance.

I sigh, "I'm fine."

"You never talk about it. About him." Leon says.

I close my eyes, "I can't talk about him. At least not now when we are so close to the finish line. Because if I do, if I even think about him, I won't ever want to get back up and keep going."

This week's goal and press conference of creating a safe place for children were for him. It was for Alex. Because even though he is no longer here, he would still want that for every other kid who did survive. That's how selfless he was.

So we built schools that will always put their safety first, and playgrounds that will bring them joy, and family-friendly environments that will prioritize their dreams and success.

I excuse myself once we get home and head to my room. I was looking through some notes and plans for our next step when I heard a knock at my door.

"Come in," I called out.

The door opens and dad lets himself in, "Hey, buddy."

"Hey, dad."

"I saw the press conference, how are you holding up?"

I examined his face before saying, "How are you holding up?"

He lets out a breath of air through his nose in a small chuckle, "Fair enough."

He looks beyond me at the notes scattered on my bed and moves some around to sit next to me.

"We're almost done." He says.

I nod, "Yeah, just a few more weeks."

He squeezes my shoulder, "You did it."

I shake my head, "No, dad, we did it."

He smiles and I ask, "What will we do after this is all over?"

He looks me in the eye, "We rest, and we mourn, and we remember."