A Real Home
I am an orphan, I know that. I became an orphan when I was four when both of my parents died in a house fire while I was away. Moving around is hard, never feeling like I belong is even harder. All day I cry for my home and family. Being an orphan means no one wants me, no one loves me, and no home for me.
I just moved into this house, it’s big but the family is unpleasant. They are already talking about bringing me back to the orphanage. Staying here means work but going back is worse. Even though I know that I will be sent back, I try pleading.
I have been in this place awhile; it is almost like a home. The truth is home has become wherever I have been moved to. That means that the next place that I move to will just be another home on my long list.
The orphanage is small and full like always. Girls on one half and boys on the other. Jobs are the same, always scrubbing and washing, never playing or reading. I don’t bother making friends. I know I will lose them right away. The orphanage is small, but my hope is even smaller.
Being an orphan, I know how mean people can be. But I have never met someone as mean as Mrs. Leona. She has kept me working all morning. The only nice thing is that she lets me out on Sunday and Wednesday. I know that I will have to live here for a long time.
Yesterday, on my day out, I found a house. It was a small house, but Ms. Kayles is very nice. I visit her every day now. I sneak away from my house to go to hers.
Ms. Kayles has shown me what home really means. It’s not just a place with a roof and walls that you live in. A home is a place where you are friends, where you are helped, and where you are loved. I used to think that a home is where you live, but now I know the truth.