Memories

Hope

I could feel the cold creeping into my bones but instead of getting up and finally going back inside I remained motionless on the grass beneath the stars. I felt tiny and lonely and worthless. How could I ever make a difference in the world?

The cold air stung on my wet cheeks. I was hoping someone would come and talk to me, maybe try to convince me to get back inside so that I didn't get sick, but no one came and I kept lying on the floor, wondering about my purpose in life. I should have expected this by now, knowing fully well that the people in the house were too busy with their own lifes to care much about my problems. And still I kept on hoping.

I closed my eyes and tried to conjure up the picture of my most precious memory. Actually, it wasn't even my own memory. It was the first one I ever had and it was a gift from a stranger I'd probably never meet. A little smile hushed over my face. It was a memory full of pain and hope and love for life itself. It must've had a lot of meaning for the person who gave it to me.

I knew that I did not have a lot of luck with the people I had met in my life so far, but this small memory, these few seconds that I kept repeating in my head showed me, that there were good people on this planet. It gave me hope that one day, when I was able to leave this place, I might be able to find these humans who would care for me and love me and maybe hand me the glue to piece myself back together.

"Thank you stranger," I whispered to myself as I finally got up. Thank you for giving me hope.