Having someplace to go is home.
Having someone to love is family.
Having both is a blessing.
Dark, ominous clouds swirled above me as the rain went pita pata pita pata pita pata relentlessly pouring down on me like a typhoon, drenching every fibre of my cold and fatigued body. It was like an ordinary day wet, cold, miserable and monotonous. I had come back from chess club were I had slowly but surely grown to like thanks to my dad. As I was leisurely walking through the moonlit sky The air felt heavy with the smell of city dust and had a mysterious feeling to it. I slowly walked to my home idly watching the autumn golden leaves on the hard concrete floor. After gazing at the seemingly infinite stars in the night sky I had finally arrived at my red, worn down and tattered door which seemed as if it went through a thrashing. I reluctantly pressed the buzzer waiting patiently for a response. But none came, irritably I unlocked the door with the spare set of keys my mom had left under the brown doormat. I still remember the words she used to say to me as clear as a summers day resonating in my head ''don't forget to lock the door when you're done'' it's funny when I think about I never did cherish how much she did for me until that day. It's true what they say you never know what you have until you've lost it.
That day my average life as I knew it ended, as if it had been torn away from me. When I returned from a normal day at school my whole family was suddenly taken from me by a cruel twist of fate. My Mum, my Dad and little sister. They were cold, lifeless corpses, frozen in time. Not knowing what had occurred a tall man dressed in a elegant and black suit entirely devoid of colour sent me to my parents funeral in a long, white and prestigious car. I wasn't definite of were we were going but i knew by the solace looking face he had it was someplace filled with anguish. ''They say the truck driver was drunk at the time'' my aunt said in her falsely sympathetic tone. ''Apparently, the three of them were killed instantly'' a faint voice said in the background of the bleak and lifeless funeral chapel we were in. I couldn't comprehend the gravity of the situation, in my head I was still trapped in the reality that my parents weren't dead. '' what will I do now you finally agreed to look after the hospital I created'' my grandfather said ignoring my existence.'' This is exactly what if been telling you all along all you thought of was my brother ' my aunt said in a jaundice tone. You poor child, don't worry I'll make sure your looked after in a good orphanage'' my aunt said trying to create a false sense of security and empathy.
I wasn't sure what she meant I didn't exactly know what an orphanage was at the time. But until then no matter how tough school was with the kids shunning me, I could always return to my room and relax in the warmth of my solitude. But if I had to live in an orphanage all of that would change, I would lose the privacy I longed to escape to and I realized the blunt truth out of every single day and night of the year I'd never have a moment of relief. The that's when he stepped forward, many of relatives had come to the funeral to pay their respects, but out of everyone who was there that day he was the only one. I felt so relieved, I wanted to cry and that's when he said those words. The words that still echo throughout my head. The words that made me who I am. The words that make me strive to be the best at what I do. ''Tel me Jumman do you want to play some chess''.