Musa sat by the roadside café, looking through the glass window aimlessly into the distant space as cars went by. He was lost in his thought, into his own world. His mother once told him, “Life is a beautiful challenge. Fear not the difficult phases and keep your faith. There is always sun shining on the other side of the dark clouds.” It had been hard for him, over all these years staying in a foreign land with no home. Living off the streets, doing odd jobs, six months had gone by and he had yet not started on his dream. He felt hopeless and had hit rock bottom more than once. But every time he remembered his mother’s words, he found strength to stand up again, undefeated. Forcing himself into the crowd where he was not wanted, Musa tried harder every day to fit in.

One day while he was delivering flowers for the day, he went to an old forsaken house on the end of the street. Blue morning glories had climbed all the way to the house of the door. It is beautiful, he thought. He had always loved the climbers and creepers back home. The sight forced a smile on his sullen face. He knocked on the door. There was no answer, no footsteps that he could hear. He knocked again. Checking the address once again, he patiently stood there and knocked for a third time. He had nowhere to go; this was his last delivery for the day. After 5 more minutes of standing and knocking, he heard soft steps towards the door. An old lady opened the door, slowly peeking out her tiny wrinkled face at Musa. “What is it?” her feeble voice asked. “Flowers madam”. She took them with a smile, inhaling the fragrance while her eyes shone like a bright star. She must have been very pretty in her youth, Musa heard his thoughts.  “Wait a minute, don’t go away.” She went into the house coming back after a whole minute had passed.

Musa stood there looking at the colorful creeper on the sides of the house. Tired from the day’s work, sweating underneath his shirt, all he wanted was to get back to the corner that was his home and drink a glass of cold water. Sleep. Go back home. Go back to his dear mother, who lived alone in their house. Bang! Something fell off in the house inside that brought him back from his thoughts to the door he was still waiting at. Is she alright, should he go in? He was a stranger, an unwelcome one everywhere. He was scared to step in the house. People had been mean to him, always calling him by rude names. He was misunderstood, beaten up and left bruised. He wanted to go in and check on her but was too scared. After all Musa was just a ten year old. He turned to leave, anguished by his thoughts when the old lady came back to the door with a pitcher of lemonade and a plate of cookies.


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