Embrace in the Rain

Five years ago, smoke and fire covered the plaza as the army reclaimed the last of their cities. The dead lay on the ground while the wounded milled about in confusion and the exhausted tried to cheer. There were no children that day, only small soldiers. They had carried coded messages and bombs in small packages throughout the war and when they were caught, they were subjected to the same tortures and executions as the adults. Five years ago, the small soldiers had poured out of the prisons in a flow of broken bones, bruises, and sadly disease, the last gift of the invaders.

Four years ago, the ambulances drove into and out of the converted hospitals day and night. The screams of the ill and the wails of the grieving colored the air with pain and despair. The small soldiers many too weak to stand, lay on the floor or in the beds if they could find one and waited for help.

Three years ago, the hanging platform and guillotine operated all day, every day as the war crimes were tried. Small soldiers were held as responsible as the adults for crimes and subjected to the same justice. Ironically, the food lines on the other side of buildings, was not as long as the lines for the executioner’s dance.

Two years ago, the plaza was silent as the world cleaned up the mess and took stock of what was left from the war and its aftermath. Small soldiers, taller now, looked for work to feed themselves and their families. When work could not be found many turned to theft and murder, skills taught them by the war.

Last year, the sun shone bright and unforgiving on the blood soaked and fire blackened stones of the plaza and the buildings surrounding it. People gathered in a silent thanksgiving that an end was finally in sight. The illnesses had passed, as had the judging and reconstruction. Small soldiers were adults now and many brought newborn children to the vigil. These children would never be small soldiers they vowed.

Today, in the rain, they found each other. Through the years of war, fear, violence, and despair they held fast and today for the first time since their school had been taken prisoner they faced each other across the plaza. They stared at each other with tears falling from their eyes as they waited for the speeches and vigil to end. At last, he folded his arms around her and she sheltered in his embrace. His wife and child and her husband watched from the side weeping with joy and sadness as the shattered family was reunited.

Next year, they would celebrate. Next year, they would come to this place on the anniversary of victory and be able to laugh and dance. Maybe.