The Weight Of Survival

PROLOGUE

The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the neighborhood I now call home, far from the streets of New York where my story began. From my window, I could see children playing in the street, mothers calling them in for dinner, families together. At thirty-six, I've learned to appreciate these simple moments-the ones I missed in my own childhood but can now recognize as precious gifts.

They say your life flashes before your eyes when you face death. Mine flashed before me many times: when I lost my mother at six, when I found myself homeless on the unforgiving streets of New York, when doctors told me I might never walk again. But through each flash, each chapter of darkness, there was always a light-sometimes dim, sometimes blinding-guiding me forward.

This is not just my story. It's a testimony to faith when reason fails, to hope when despair seems logical, to the invisible hand that catches you when you fall. This is the story of how I was never truly alone, even when it seemed the whole world had turned its back on me.