I Belong to The Streets {Completed}

001

I've heard of it happening, but I never once thought that it would happen to us. Unfortunately, our story is a bit more tragic than the rest.

Let's go back to the day my father was supposed to come home after being in Vietnam for three years.

My mother and brother were standing by my side on the front lawn, waiting for the military bus that my father was supposed to be on.

I had no doubt that he would get off that bus when it came because he had promised me that he would come back.

When the bus pulled up in front of our house, a man in a military uniform stepped off. He walked up to my mother, handed her a letter, and said, "I am sorry for your loss, Mrs. Sachela."

I understood what was going on and I knew what had happened, but my nine-year-old brain refused to accept that my father had died in the war; that it was even possible for that to happen because he had promised me he would come home alive and well.

That was three years ago. I've now realized just how much can happen in three years. I've experienced what can happen in three years. I also know that in my experiences, good things can be scarce. They are still scarce.

I still remember what happened just one week after being informed of my father's death.

My mother had left Isaac, my older brother, and me at the local park. She said that she would be back no later than noon the next day. We had tried to stay in the car, we knew that something wasn't right and that something could go incredibly wrong if we got out.

She forced us out of the car and drove off. We stood there on the side of the road while watching the retreating car until it was out of sight.

Isaac grabbed my hand and pulled me away from the curb, obviously afraid that something would happen if I was too close to the street.

"I need you to listen to me very carefully, Sarana," he said to me. "I know that you're only nine and I'm only thirteen, but we can figure this out. I don't know if mom will be back. Even if she doesn't come back, we will survive and I will do everything I can to protect both of us. Okay?"

I didn't know what else to say and I didn't want to disagree with Isaac so my response was a curt, "Okay."

That night we slept behind some bushes, trying to stay out of sight of anybody who would try to hurt us. It was also the first night of our life as homeless people.

After that, we had to drop out of school. We did try to continue our education, but the teachers and principal started getting suspicious when our mom wasn't able to come to student led conferences or how she never answered the phone. The fact that we also wore the same clothes to school every day probably didn't help much with the matter. We also didn't have the time or energy. We didn't have the money either.

From then on, each day held the same schedule filled with the same saddening tasks. It rarely changed and when it did, we hoped that something good would happen instead of the alternative.

Every morning we would wake up to the sound of cars speeding by, their drivers trying to get to work on time. We would spend most of the day searching for food, money, clothes or anything else that could be of any use to us.

We would then head back to our shelter which was located in the back of an alley that connected to one of the major streets.

It wasn't a very good shelter, just some boxes set up to keep us somewhat dry when it rained or snowed, and it kept us hidden from the view of anyone who dared to step foot in the alley.

About four day ago, Isaac decided he wanted to try a new schedule. One where Isaac searched for anything that could be of use to us in one place and I searched for the same things, but in a different place.