My Safe Haven
Winter was just around the corner. The sound of the heater working furiously rung loudly in my ears. It was a warm, but lonely feeling, sitting on the couch alone. I wrapped the blanket tighter around me, nestling myself deeper on the cushions. The coldness disappeared, and newfound warmth slowly seeped into my limbs. I sighed in content and focused my gaze on the flat screen across from me.
The characters have been sent back in time, back when there was no electricity, or cars, for that matter… I bored my eyes into the screen, wondering what life was like then— wait. What’s that? That guy is—why is he like that? Does he not have a home..? What would that be like? I watched curiously as he knelt on the sidewalk, and tried to make himself comfortable on the pavement. Citizens steered clear away from him, and the characters watched in shock as one in particular shot him a look of disgust. What happened to him? He doesn’t have a home? Where’s his family? What would it be like?
What WOULD it be like..? I asked myself silently, repeating. Huh…
Cold, lonely, dark, stuff like that. Another part of me answered.
The cold feeling returned. Homeless. My consciousness added. Homeless—people with no home. No place to belong, to return to, again and again. Possibly no family, no friends. My heart sank.
Have they not experienced these feelings we feel, the wonderful things we see? Does anyone care even?
I shook my head. Of course some do! Everyone should. Home is supposed to be a safe haven. Maybe that’s not the same for them. Maybe their home isn’t that safe. But why? It’s a place where you can be yourself, right? Where everyone respects you. Where you love and be loved. A place of joy, sadness, and anger. It’s wonderful, I should know.
I snorted at the cheesy thoughts I was getting. One TV show can alter your thoughts completely…
“Hot chocolate?” I looked up to see my mom smiling. She placed it on the counter in front of me, already knowing my automatic answer. “Don’t stay up too late, okay? I’ll be upstairs studying. Love you.”
With that, she clambered up the stairs, and I grabbed the mug and took a sip. My mom worked hard for this house, I reminded myself. My house. My home. Our home. “Love you too..”