Ezrae & Moses: “You’ll ALWAYS be My Son.”

*Tap Tap Tap*

Three quick bonks in a row on top of Ezrae's head pulled him out of his storytelling trance, as his water-based illusions sloshed back into the Oasis of Marah, motionless.

His hands shot to the top of his head as he yelped and looked around, slightly angry. As he blinked, rubbing his head, and noticing, as he looked around, that he found himself in DEEP darkness.

The moon hung high in the night sky, casting an ethereal glow to hang over the desert landscape. And, the campfire Ezrae and the Israelites sat around was completely burned out, only a few, weak embers remained. It was late, much later than anyone had realized.

Finally, he spotted Moses, looking both proud and annoyed, if it was possible. In response, Ezrae shrugged, and smiled sheepishly at his adoptive father, laughing.

Rubbing his eyes, he realized how exhausted HE was. Some of the children were sleeping peacefully around the burned out fire, and many of the adults smiled wearily at him as they began to collect their children.

The weariness settled deep within his bones, a result of the long day's journey and the weight of his responsibilities. The children still awake, who had been listening to his tale with rapt attention, let out disappointed sighs; longing for the story to continue.

With a warm smile, Ezrae addressed the children, his voice filled with genuine affection. "Ahhh. Se Talitha Yah, it's time for bed. Scurry along to your parents, and I promise we will finish the story when we have the time."

He gently ushered them towards their tents, their sleepy faces expressing both disappointment, and anticipation for the next storytime.

As the children reluctantly left, Moses, the great leader and prophet, approached Ezrae with a smile. His staff was outstretched towards him, as if guiding him towards rest.

"Your storytelling truly is something else, absolutely captivating," Moses remarked, a hint of envy in his voice. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't jealous of your blessings, from time to time."

Ezrae burst into laughter, his fatigue momentarily forgotten. "YOU?! I've been jealous of your gifts, since I was old enough to know what pride was.

You're a prophet, a messenger of the Most High, a leader of the chosen of Yahweh. Please don't lower yourself by thinking I am in any way above you."

Moses placed his hand on Ezrae's shoulder, his eyes filled with warmth and paternal pride. "First of all, you're my son. You deserve my pride, my respect, and my compliments,"

Moses assured him. "And second, in service to our Lord Yahweh, we are all equal; As children of God, Ezrae. Don't forget that it's all for His Glory, and from Him, our blessings flow."

Ezrae nodded, a mixture of gratitude and humility washing over him. He felt a deep connection with Moses, a bond that went far beyond simple mentorship.

Moses was nearly the perfect adoptive father figure, showering him with love, stories, intelligence, and guidance. Yet, even in this moment, Ezrae couldn't help but feel the ache of longing for his own parents, the desire to have spent his life with them…

This sparked a longing in his heart to finish his own story.

As Moses stretched and prepared to retire to his tent, he ruffled Ezrae's hair affectionately, both of them sharing a moment of joy and camaraderie.

Ezrae grimaced at Moses, "You know, I'm not 13 anymore... Pops." Ezrae said, playfully. Moses grinned in response, his eyes twinkling with affection.

"Then stop acting like it, Old Man. Actually...don't. I love you for who you are, you're my son… And I wouldn't change it for the world."

Letting out a sigh tinged with bittersweet emotion, Ezrae watched Moses walk off towards his tent. His heart felt heavy, yearning for the parents he had lost.

And the grandfather who had replaced them. However, he knew he had a purpose to fulfill, and part of that purpose was to preserve the memory of his true family.

Not just them, either, but to preserve and care for all of the memories, all of the stories and myths and histories of his people.

With determination, Ezrae gathered his belongings, shaking the sand out of his blanket and rolling it up, so he could bring it back to his tent to sleep on it.

He waved his staff over a small section of the sand, and it sprang to life, little sand-people emerging from the grains, and jumping into the almost entirely dead fire; extinguishing what few embers were still hanging on.

It was a testament to his power, a small reminder of the miracles he was capable of. He smiled as the little sand-people cannon balled into the embers, smothering them. He stood up and turned away, heading to his tent, where the children had helped him set it up earlier that day.

Returning to his tent, Ezrae settled on the floor and closed the entrance flap, immersing himself in the solitude of his memories. He grabbed a handful of sand, activating his blessings, and watched as the sand came alive, forming vivid pictures and cinematic scenes.

His excitement grew as the sand whirled around him, forming pictures from his memories, and picking up where he had left off; after the miraculous crossing of the Red Sea.

But amidst his fatigue and longing, there was a glimmer of anticipation in his eyes. He was about to relive memories of Shelomith, and he would see her smiling face again… The love of his life; even though it would bring both joy… and pain.

In that late hour of the night, with the weight of the world upon his shoulders, Ezrae found solace in the power of his memories, and the longing to see Shelomith's face once again.

With each grain of sand that shaped the images before him, Ezrae allowed himself to be transported back to that bustling market in Cairo, 37 years ago. The details of their encounter; the sounds, the smells, and the intense emotions of that day flooded his senses.

They offered solace and respite from the weariness that burdened him. Yet all the while, the small monster of dread rearing its ugly head in his stomach.

As he delved deeper into the memory, Ezrae's tiredness completely faded into the background. The vivid recollection of their time together fueled his spirit, infusing him with a renewed energy.

For in that moment, within the realm of his memories, he was alive; truly alive; relishing the connection he once shared with Shelomith…