It had started with a beautiful day in My hometown where I have learned such a beautiful lesson that I will never forget. Even though everyone was smiling, the sun was shining and children were playing happily, but my eyes were sparked by only one person; the one who was sitting under the tree with a smiley face, asking for a penny, to buy a loaf of bread saying Good Morning to everyone passing through him, I did not know what the first action should I make, wondering if I can ask him how is he doing? Is he okay? Why he ended up like that? Many questions came into my mind, because of that smile. How can any person be happy while he keeps always crawling from one street to another begging people for money and food? I was imagining myself if I were in his place my whole life will turn to a hell based on sorrow and grief. How can I smile while myself, and my spirit is telling me to cry, I would never endure this feeling, so I went toward him and asked all that came into my mind? With a sweating body and a trembling voice I said : Good morning, he replied with a grin on his face, wakey for a pretty lady I smiled sadly, and asked why? Why are you being so fake, pretending that you are having a good time and happy while you are not? Your eyes show you within pain and your hidden tears !? He answered me why are you so sad? don't you have everything? mm …Your eyes are telling something had happened? I was surprised by his answer asking curiously: how did you know? He told me we all have emotions but it depends on us if we like to show them or not. Yes I'm sad and you can bear neither my feelings nor my pain of having no shelter no family and no friends, but I try always to overcome the harsh memories I try to be positive and look to things from another perspective, I asked again but why? He told me because I believe in miracles I believe that there is someone who is always stalking and tracking me when I'm sick or sleeping I asked with wonder what makes you sure about that? he said because I feel it and for me, this feeling of being safe and protected means the world to me even more than being happy. I asked with amazement but who is that "someone"? He replied back with confidence he is in the sky watching me every day and I'm pretty sure that one day I will get what no buddy else had before, I will live with my own family and play with my kids because this life is not the one it is all fake, am sure that there will be something prepared only for poor people who did not have the chance to be like you or any ordinary person in this life. One day we will all die and none of us will take his money or glory to his grave, we will be alone there; in a place where we all be equal in. I started crying, and with a faint voice, I admitted: I wish all people think like that. I do not know why should we care about our good looking, job salary and what the others say about us, why do we care that much hate in our hearts why..? He answered softly because the truth hurts and hard to be accepted. I will give you advice my dear try to keep it for the rest of your life; just be who you are and if you want to do something that people think is weird while you really want to do it, just do it and never care about them .like smiling even when you are begging, as I did today although it was unfair to you? I surprisingly answered... how did you?... he gave me a tender smile and said yes This Life is so "UNFAIR" was what I have seen In your eyes.

I don't know where to start...My name is Nidiyah Thompson, I was given this name on October 22, 2001, by my mother Gloria Lewis, and my father Alvin Thompson. Growing up wasn't easy in my family, my father spanked us a lot while my mother worked to put food on the table. My dad wasn't very opened, and he was a mean man who didn't know how to raise us right... every since I was little, I had an active imagination even now I still do. When I was a child, I would call out to my mother calling her "Nani." ever since I was a child, I had a speech problem, and couldn't say certain words right. I grew up with my siblings, Bruce Lewis who is currently 22 at this time, my older sister Daysha Thompson, and my younger sister Arianna Thompson. Over the course of my life, I sometimes wonder what it would be like to go back in time, to change some events in my life, so I could just have the family back, but I realized that life isn't a fairy-tale. I learned thing don't just end with a happily ever after, no matter what we do... it's sad really... there were times I remember I had a lot of fun with my father and mother. my favorite color is black because it reminds me of when we had fun in the dark, I know it's stupid but it does. Sometimes when the lights turned off, we had so much fun playing different types of games in the dark, we were a family.... my mother cooked my favorite food, spaghetti, chili, everything I ever loved. now in my life, I don't have my dad anymore... I resent him for what he has put my mother through... but I have to thank him for getting me into writing, that is the only thing I can ever thank him for. so this is my life, I'm sorry I can't offer more, I know this isn't worthy of winning.... but I have to try... we're on the verge of getting evicted and we have no food in the house... My mom has done so much for me, and my siblings... I just want to help her, I need to help her.

I took the steps two at a time just to get down to soak up the first rays of summer after kindergarten. My hand-me-down sneakers hit the unmoving concret that we use as our backyard. I ran down the narrow passageway and as I did it transformed into a tunnel made by towering jungle trees. Once the tunnel breaks open a large cheetah runs pass me and lets out a roar. As it speeds down the jungle path I run across and open the door to the lion's den. As I walk into the bar and to where I know I will be able to find my mother, the owner greeted me by name. My mother sat at her favorite slot machine, and I plop into the spot next to her. “I am back from the last day of school Mother and my teacher gave me a bag of clothes for me and they are so pretty but there isn't any new shoes, can I get new ones yet cause you keep telling me tomorrow but that never happens and I really could use new shoes so I can play.” After waiting for a response that I knew wasn't going to come, I hopped off the stool and strolled out of the bar. I head back up the stairs to our little apartment above the church where I'd find Morgan, my best friend and niece. When we are together our imaginsoin run wild. I call Morgan by her pet name she has had since she was born, Gorgan, and ask if she wants to come out to play. We didn't have a back yard so we played in the many allies in the town. We ran around dodging cars and jumping pot holes. Morgan and I made our own village where we were the rulers and we lived by our own rules. Living in trees and grabbing apples from nearby branches was how we lived. When a grown-up was needed we just go to the the bar. When my mother was home it was hard to stay inside because Mother was the type of person who didn't like little kids and become angry with us for things any little kid will do. When Mother was home we couldn't play with our toys because they made a mess. Singing and dancing made too much noise. Wasting paper is what she called drawing. So the only thing we could really do was watch tv but the only thing allowed on was the news. Having fun was a bit difficult but we learned that we could enjoy ourselves by telling stories and playing with things that weren't really there. Most of my summers were never real but they were all amazing. It is such a rare treat for Morgan and I to go to Walmart and when we do it is a bit crazy with all the people. To our mind it is a marketplace full of people running around and shouting. The dust being picked up as people rush around and it seems like almost everyone on earth was there. We never see this many people in one place. As Morgan and I were playing in the marketplace weaving in and out of people, we end up in the area where the people are selling the little girl's clothes. I almost run directly into a girl I know from school. As the dust flies around us and the vendors are shouting, the girl looked me up and down and wrinkled her nose with a sound of disgust. Her mother came up behind her and looked me over just like her daughter did, only this time she said, “What kind of person would let their kids out in those rags. Their rude things pulled me from the marketplace and landed my feet on the white tile floor. This is the first time someone had really been rude to me. It made me realize what I was wearing. I had holes in my shirt and grass stains on my pant. I had all kinds of spots on my shirt that didn't even come from me. The back pocket of my jeans were ripped off from jumping out of a tree. The soles of my shoes were almost gone and my hair was all tangled because no one was around to brush it out. We never got new clothes and all mine are so worn by the time I get them. The first new clothes I have gotten was a bag from my teacher because she felt bad. For the first time I felt ashamed about my clothes. Instead of joining Morgan back in the marketplace, I marched up to Crystal, my older sister who took us here and asked for new clothes. She looked at me and told me, “You know we can't afford that Molly, now please go get Morgan we are about to leave.” The way that Crystal said it I knew that I wasn't getting it. That night I thought about the clean and pretty clothes that girl was wearing and how I wish my hair was combed out and put into a braids like hers. That night instead of dreaming about flying or being super strong, I dreamt about have a brand new pair of shoes like that girl. I woke up in the morning with a smile on my face and almost completely forgot about it.