BUILT PLUMB. HELD TRUE.
MERCER HOMESTEAD // ESTABLISHED 1944
A slow, radiant, permanent smile broke across Major General Victoria Mitchell’s face—a smile that held zero fear, zero debts, zero lies, and zero graves.
I looked out over the forty miles of clean, sweet river water where my grandfather’s memory, my mother’s safety, and my own life had finally taken root upon solid rock:
“The line is plumb, Grandpa,” Major General Victoria Mitchell whispered into the morning breeze:
“The doors are locked from the inside.”
“The foundation stands upon solid stone.”
“The thieves are in their cages.”
“The gun has been lowered.”
“My mother is free.”
“The uniform held true.”
“The ledger is closed.”
“And around here…”
I stood up from the chair, holding my mother’s hand toward the limitless blue sky as the distant chimes of the harbor chapel began to strike twelve times across the peaceful water:
“…nobody ever, ever… draws a weapon in our home again.”
Barnaby let out a soft, contented sigh on the porch rug, his tail thumping once against the cedar boards: thump.
The puppy barked joyfully into the sunlight.
The eagles climbed into the limitless blue sky.
The river ran deep and clear.
The ledger was closed forever.
And the General who had answered the call from the floor… was finally, beautifully, eternally free.
