The Escape

My parents visited my brother yesterday and got some details of his escape. First of all, he and the other boy walked out the open door. What kind of place is this, anyway? Nobody even missed them for hours.

They ran through fields and ended up falling into a ten foot deep hole, where they had to dig steps into the side to climb out. They walked until they found a motel, where they told a guy who asked if they were okay that some girls ditched them, and they didn’t even know where they were. They got a ride to the nearest large city, where they went to a store and stole clothes, changing in an aisle and then walking out.

Then began their stay with some hobos, who shared their liquor and pot. They spent the night under a bridge and tagged along to a soup kitchen in the morning, where they were caught, unfortunately, before they got to eat.

It’s easy to laugh about it now. It’s easy to hear the story and marvel at their luck. It’s also easy to imagine the many forms their death or serious injury could have taken.

My brother knows I write, and he’s told me several times that I should write a book about him. I hope that’s not the reason he has such adventures.

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