THE TOWERS FAMILY SAGA
       Episode 100
The centennial mark of the
saga was etched into the
iron of the main gate by
Robert’s steady hand.
The Ridge had become a
shining city of folding
steel, reflecting the
unyielding Arizona sun.
"It started with a story,"
Minnie said, looking out
at the row of units that
now housed fifty souls.
"And it turned into a
legacy of solid ground."
Robert sat in his chair
on the cedar deck, the
11th Marines cap pulled
low over his brow.
He watched Virginia and
Barbara lead the first
class of the Ridge school,
teaching the children how
to read the wind and the
stars and the ledger.
The radical honesty was
the air they breathed.
There were no secrets left
hidden in the mine shafts,
only the open blueprints
of a family that refused
to be folded by the world.
Dorothy and Shirley were
at the transmission tower,
broadcasting the signal of
their survival to anyone
listening in the dark.
"The virus is a shield,"
Shirley whispered into the
mic, her voice steady.
"The protection is yours."
The Towers stood together
at the edge of the rim,
a line of iron and blood
that had held through the
fire and the flood.
The black sedans were gone,
lost in the rearview of
a history that had moved
on without them.
Robert looked at his wife,
his daughters, and the
home they had forged.
The saga was a circle that
had finally closed on a
place called peace.
"What’s next, Robert?"
Minnie asked, her hand
resting in his.
"We keep the light on,"
he said, closing his eyes.
"The Arizona night is
long, but we have the
power and the truth."
The family was the saga.
The work was the honor.
The life was the prize.

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