A Harsh Breeze and a Glimmer of Compassion
The wind howled that cold winter evening, a fierce downpour drenching my worn sweater and seeping into every part of me. I made my way across the slippery pavement to the grocery store, feeling the chill bite at me with every step.
With each step, my sneakers let out a soft squish, and I wrapped my coat around me more tightly, trying to fend off the cold bite of the night air. I softly murmured to myself, “Just keep going, Layla.” My mom used to say, “Tough times don’t last forever.”
At 23, I never thought I would be in a position where I felt lost, just getting by with only $50 left in my bank account. Life had turned into a series of never-ending business trips, tiring shifts at the sporting goods store downtown, and the quiet pain of loss. After the tragic death of my parents in a car crash, my once-bright dreams had faded away. In the blink of an eye, everything I knew was turned upside down. There I was, facing the weight of overwhelming student loans, unending rent payments, and a constant sense of hopelessness.