I remember as a child being told that Ramses was Pharaoh in the time of Moses.  Who can forget the movies that were made to forever solidify this narrative? The minds of people too easily follow a thin populist story.

It was after a hard day working I finally could get some rest.  The little home in the ghetto was barely big enough for the family I lived with.  The father of this family was named Nun and was of the tribe of Ephraim.

The first time I saw Moses he was headed to his sister’s home.  It was after he had given instructions of what the people should do for the tenth plague.  This plague would come to be known as the Passover.

After Joshua asked me who I was, I didn’t give him an answer.  The daylight had come and as he gazed into my eyes searching for that answer, I stood and left.  I did not want anyone to know my story.

Waking up the next morning I fully expected us to continue moving.  I knew the Red Sea was in front of us a short distance away.  I believed that today would be the day Moses would part it. Soon the people of Israel would cross on dry land.

After the celebrations ended, Moses moved Israel into the Wilderness of Shur.  The old adage that one can go only three days without water is true, and it was tested.

My tent door faced Mt Sinai for a purpose.  Also where I camped was for more than merely being away from the people of Israel.  Granted, I wanted nothing to do with anyone in this moment.