Lets go home.
I watched as countless people walked past me like I was invisible, unwanted, alone…but not all alone. I still had my sister, my dog Hope, and my mum. We live everywhere, as in we move from place to place each month and tried to remain unnoticed.
Wandering the streets of New York, I pull out the five bucks Mum gave me to buy all of us food for the next week or so. I anxiously look around at all the strangers ignoring me, running or walking swiftly as they are late for work or need to be somewhere I spot a gas station not too far and head for it. I stop at the side of the wall and brush the dust of my gray sweater and try to look presentable for the store clerk. I attempt to look confident, walking to the canned-food aisle. I rechecked my collection of food and my list, canned corn and canned soup. Perfect.
I walk over to the clerk and say “What a fine afternoon it is!”
Oops, it actually was the morning. I lecture myself quietly and reluctantly slide the money over top of the counter to pay for the canned food. What a mess I am.
I say “Have a nice day!” and scramble out the door of the deserted gas station. As I walk back to our little place we call “home”, I hear a bark from the other side of the street. Is that.. Hope?!?
I desperately dashed for the source of the barking, where is he?!? I can’t lose him now! Other than my sister and my mum, Hope was my best friend and always got me through the depressed state I have been enduring since we lost our home. Whirling around the corner, I saw Hope stopped and caught a scent, did he smell something off? He dashed off and I groaned, “Not again!” I sighed and darted for him, right at his heels, and then I suddenly stopped. Where were we going? We were already ten blocks away from the gas station! I contemplated about the situation. Should I follow him or should I go back to grab my sister and mum? “Hmm… I should go back…” I whirled around, walking back to the gas station when I heard a yelp. Oh no! I immediately whipped around and sprinted towards him.
I stopped and skidded on the sidewalk, hearing the yelp again, wincing at its loudness. I strolled around, still hearing the yelps, knowing I was close to Hope. When I found him, his leg was trapped in some rubble with burnt pieces of wood. I scrambled over to free his leg, he licked my face thank you but then stared at the sight behind him. I gazed at the sight, grief washed over me. It was my old home before it got burnt down. We barely escaped with little possessions in our hands. We turned to living in makeshift homes and alleyways. I glanced at the burnt remains of my house, but another feeling overcame my sadness, hope. With that feeling, I realized what home means to me. It means that no matter what type of living style you have, its your family that is your home. I glanced at Hope and ruffled the fur on his head, saying “Lets go home, Hope.” He playfully pranced around and then went back to my side and strolled with me back to my sister and mother. My home belonged with them.