Home Sweet Home

Shelter

It's cold on the way back home. I swore that I was never going to think of him again and our fond memories we made together, but it's impossible. I hold my tears back as I sigh and close my tired eyes. It's going to be a long ride.

19 years ago...

A brief yawn escaped through my mouth as I rubbed away the tiredness dragging my eyes down with the back of my hand. There hadn't been a day where I could get a peaceful night of sleep because of a new kid, softly sobbing every single night. The nuns should stop using the spare bed besides me as a temporary bed.

Instead of going back to sleep, I got out of bed and gingerly walked past of the row of beds. From where I was, though, I could still hear the boy's soft sobs. I couldn't blame him. We all lost our parents, or neither of them wanted us. I knew how he felt, and I knew I should have said something, but I didn't know what to say. Eventually, he'll get used to the idea of living amongst us strangers. Sighing, I escaped into the dark hallways.

It was quiet, and I liked it that way except for the crickets chirping so loudly like they were the music at night. Still, I remained on the window's ledge and kept my eyes fixed on the city beyond the manor gates. I rarely went to the city, so I always forgot what the outside world looked like during the day. But at night, the outside world was at peace: it was still, completely silent and bare. The only thing that made the city alive was the lights coming from the neighborhood houses, apartments and the tall office buildings. I was about to walk away when my interest got caught by a shady person walking out of a building, wearing dark dress shoes, a trench coat, and a deerstalker. The man briefly stopped for a second, looked from left to right before crossing the streets. I wondered if his parents were still alive and if he grew up with them...

My eyes went to the manor gates and saw that it was opened wide as usual. I always wondered why it was never closed and thought that the nuns were careless at their jobs. But last year, around late August or early September, I saw a woman holding a huge basket rushing from the city, past the gates, and disappeared below the ledge that blocked my view. I remembered hearing the loud, yet gentle knocks that I could even hear it from the second floor. Then I heard the cries of a baby that was louder than her knocks, yet not a kid got up in the middle of the night because we were used to it. By then, she left as quickly as the soft summer breeze... I eventually grew fond of Jun since then; I was able to name him because I was there first and was put in charge of looking after him.

It wasn't the first for me to see this, though, because I always sat there at the nights I couldn't sleep. I've lost count of how many of us entered this place we all call our home, and how many of us there were altogether. Honestly, I didn't know everyone here anymore as a new face comes in every day.

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