A day in my shoes

We're all like books. You can see our covers.

Read our summary, but the only true way to know a book is to read it and the only way to truly know a person is to live life in their shoes. Worn down may they be, Jada a foster kid residing in the blistering hot vacation spot for the elderly, Arizona. Sat on the sign at the entrance of her neighborhood waiting for the sun to rise over the horizon. Warmth touching her skin like a hug reassuring her of this new day. Beginning with the permission to start over and rid the doubt of yesterday. And so she did, writing in her little black book of life and how she wishes she lived it. Professing all that she's grateful for. A game she play with the universe. Depicting life as she saw though the lenses of her rose-colored glasses. Somehow exist outside her realities and turmoil. Everyday, she step away from chaos, to catch her breath. Putting in her headphones and writing away her anxieties.

summoned back to, (now this story becomes yours) when your pocket buzzes, from a text that reads.

"GET HOME NOW" in all caps. Pulled back to the reality that school start in 20 minuets and you haven't even showered yet. Stepping through the door your foster mother yelling so loud you can almost here her muffled words though the music playing in your headphones. For a second, you consider taking them out wondering if she's saying something of importance. But, using your knowledge of her hissy fits of minor significant every other morning. You decide to play it safe and not let her ruin you day.

On your way up stairs to the shower in a better mood them most days. You get in and surprisingly there still hot water and bath soap. As you wash away the dry ashy river running down you face from crying yourself to sleep last night. It's as if the world gone silent. Your foster mom no longer yelling and your foster sibling not barging in last minuet to brush their teeth or fix their hair. You began to panic. Condensing, your 30 minuet get- ready-for-school routine then took approximately three minuets tops. Running down the stair like your ride to school depends on it because it does. Fully expect everyone to have gone without you.

Like some alternate universe everyone is occupied. Patiently awaiting your arrival. Then your, foster mom hands you your breakfast to go and a lunch. As if there's ever breakfast left and you know you eat free lunches from school. "Weird" you think to yourself, but head to the van for school feeling Deja vu. Once in the van, you reach into your bag for your little black book to vent on this unnerving morning your having and to write about Jacob. This tall, lanky, curly haired, boy you been crushing on since you've been at this school. When you open to your last page. You spot you last entry.

and like how she'd imagine seeing a murderer from the news in her rear view mirror. Your blood runs cold and your eyes widen as you realize. The imaginary morning in which you'd live "in a perfect world" written in your book is what played out in your reality down to the "Have a great day, Sweetheart". That spewed from the lips of your foster mother like a foreign language she doesn't even know how to speak. Weirded out you shut the book. Convincing yourself it's just some odd coincidence.

School plays out as usual, but there is this erg to write in that book. So, you open it again. Writing about some crazy story about their being $20,000 behind a brick in the wall of the school basement. While walking to your next period. A door beside the gym that usually always lock opens by itself. Just like in your stories. As if a map inside your head you walk right through the basement to a brick wall in the back. Your eyes water as you count 39 bricks down 41 bricks to the right. You touch it. It's cold, like a chilled mineral water, fresh. It's slightly outlined and you punch it. Tears running down your face like relief as you race though memories of all the trauma that led to this moment. You punch until your knuckles bleed and the brick adjust. You pry it out with the mechanical pencils in your bag.

It falls to the ground. You smile as you reach in almost afraid to hope so much, but then you feel something. A bag. You pull it out and lord behold there cash inside. You slide to the ground in tears. Crying, what felt like air releasing from a balloon. A heart discovering a hope it didn't know it needed. Then, you put the money in your bag finish the school day with a light, happy and it showed. Silent, but felt all over. After school, you ride with a friend to go get your first car. You take your old foster sibling to got get some food and something they want. Then, you put the rest of the money in a saving account. Think up a plan to moving and being a life where this circumstance does not define the room you wake up in nor, What your life looks like. You now have more choices, then ever before.

So, you head to the sign at then entrance of your neighborhood to watch the sunset over the horizon. Open you little black book and write a story of what life looks like from here on forward and exactly how you want to change it.