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One Day

I walk along the muddy street, the mud squishing between my toes. It's raining an the holes in my clothing don't help to keep out the freezing, stinging rain. I run a small stick that I picked up from the side of the street and run it along the side of the old, worn down houses that I pass. I look through the window of one and see Haiti's flag hanging on the wall. I stare at it for a second and just think. I think about my life, my friends' life, the community's life and the country's life after the earthquake and before. So much suffering and hopelessness. And hatred. The earthquake took my family from me. I live in a small little house with my aunt, uncle, and cousin. They're the only thing I have left in the world.

I snap out of my trance and continue to the market, further into the village. As I near the market, I see a man. A white man. He's surrounded by kids from my school that survived the quake. I walk up to them and drop the stick. I can almost hear the stick clash against the ground as it settles from its fall from my grip. Like everyone else, my mouth hung open. Food. The white man had food.
I could feel saliva forming in my mouth and some dripped down my chin. I shoved my way through the crowd and someone pushed me and I landed in the middle of the area in an open space. Right by the white man's hiking boots. Everyone was looking down at me and I quickly got back up and turned in the other direction to run away, but someone caught my arm. I looked at the white man's arm gripping my sleeve and he crouched down to look at me eye level. His eyes were blue and he had kind features. He smiled and locked eyes with me.
"I've been told that the children in you village have been taking English. Only a few though. Do you understand me," he questioned me.
"Yes. We have," I replied to him in almost a whisper. We all were being taught English for the past two years because so many families were planning to run away to the U.S. A huge grin spread across his face from ear to ear, and it was infectiousness.
"Good. Listen, I brought something for your village. I understand that there has been a terrible incident. I wanted to help. So kids, your age, from a school helped to donate rice and beans for your village. Would you like to tell them?" he asked me. My head shook up and down so much I thought it was going to fall off.
I turned around and he let go of my arm. I spun around in a circle as I yelled the good news to the crowd.
They all cheered and threw their fists into the air. The man stood up and walked to the boxes that I hadn't seen behind him. There were so many boxes! Full of food! I ran over to the white man and hugged him around the waist. he hugged me back and gave me a bag of rice. I thanked him with tears streaming down my dirt covered face and I ran all the way home. I burst through the front door and found my aunt and uncle in the middle of the home cleaning up a mess that my cousin must have made. I told them all about the white man and what he brought for us and what he gave me. Both of them hugged me so tightly it felt like and anaconda was wiggling its way across my body.
After we calmed down, we made a fire in the fireplace and I sat by it, jubilant for its warmth. I couldn't help but think of my family that was killed. My mom, dad, and older sister. I thought of how much they would of loved this. My aunt came and draped one of her bony arms around my shoulder and gave me a bowl of steaming rice.
One day, I will do something in return for the white man. One day, I will help someone in need. One day, I will move to the U.S., like my family wanted to. One day, I will make a difference in the world. And how people view it.




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