His frightened eyes witnessed his own death; the death of the past and the birth of the future. Never had he imagined that his future would be so desolate, ugly and uncomfortable. Two years had passed since he had become homeless and because his only resting place was a park bench, the pavement or a rough cardboard box, he felt close to nature. When the winter approached he felt the full force of nature as ice sliced through his skin; the spring was gentler and he liked how each flower bloomed with a new promise. He loved it most in the summer. It reminded him of his childhood when the birds whistled lightly; when ice cream vans drove around perpetually playing that cheerful melody, and when he had a place to call home. As he sat on the park bench, this memory filled his heart with a heaviness that could only be removed by a comforting word. All he needed was for someone to say, ‘Don’t worry. It will be al-right’.
A part of him believed that this struggle would not last forever , but he wanted it to end. Although he had been on the streets for two years, it was beginning to feel like a life time. His life felt like a stream; it was running, but he didn’t know where to. Of course, he was thankful to be alive, but he didn’t want to simply live; he wanted to be part of life, to taste the joys of owning a home, and to have self-fulfilment. Someone he knew a long time ago always told him that bad situations are like passing winds; they last for a moment and we just have to be strong enough to keep hanging on.
Today, as he sat on the park bench, was like any other day. People roamed around in the park enjoying the sun and children played on the swings. The things around him had not changed, but on the inside he felt different. Reminiscing about the good old times reminded him that there was hope; there was no need for him to live in despair because this was just a passing wind. For the first time that day, he lifted himself up off the bench and walked towards the entrance of the park.