Mirror: A Self Portrait

This story, like many others, begins with a boy of no more than ten years. Dark hair and big brown eyes, tanned from living on an island paradise. A family of five in a three bedroom apartment was what he called home. They were poor, the boy and his family, and while he knew this he never truly understood poverty. When he thought about it he didn’t see the homelessness that he saw in the news or the crime or rampant hunger that the news spoke about when they spoke about other boys like him. After all, mom and dad always had food for him at the table. He had a bed in a room under a roof that he enthusiastically shared whit his older brother. There was a full bathroom with a tub where he soaked and played with his toys. His toys! He had toys, so how could he be poor? They weren’t the newest or best but they were his and his alone. He had an older sister that looked over him although he didn’t know at the time. And he had mom and dad who, besides giving him food, never let him want for nothing.

As he grew his toys went away. So did the sleepless nights with his brother now that he was a grownup. And his sister now looked over him from afar. Mom and dad weren’t mom AND dad anymore; he had to stop talking about them as if they were a one and only thing. The shared bedroom became his room and an occasional stopping point for the eldest one -the brother. His dogs were someone else’s dogs and warmth only came…