I reach to the ground and scoop up a handful of sand. I sadly stare at my hand as I left gravity take the sand back to its rightful place. Home. I don’t have one. A home, I mean. But I’ve lived this way all my life. No home, but a family that tries to keep me safe, healthy, and alive.
I look back and wind brushes up against my face. It comforts me. I hear a noise and look to the direction where the noise came from, but nothing is there.
I glance at the sky. The sun is still up there, but slowly moving down. The sun helps paint the sky and the landscape below it. It gives us the light we need to help us keep going. It shows us the way.
I close my eyes and overlook who I am. I’m not the strongest person, but I respect those you are; physically and mentally. I’m not the smartest person, but I know what’s right and wrong. I may not be everything, but I’m someone who cares, someone who was there, someone who you can depend on. I’m someone. I’m here. I’m who I am. This is who I am, and nothing will change me.