Hope
by Holly Coughlan

Hurt.
I felt it when my parents said they don’t accept me.
When they kicked me out of the house at age 16 to fend for myself.
Hurt, that slowly ate away at my already vulnerable confidence.
As I walked down the halls watching eyes look me up and down like a wild animal watching its prey.
I felt it.
Hurt.

Fear.
I felt it for the first time as I pressed the buzzer to my grandmas apartment.
Fear, that she would throw me out to the rats just as my parents did.
Fear, we’ve been attached at the hip ever since.

Love.
I felt it for the first time since I was young.
Love, I feel my spine tingle with excitement every time I look at her.
Love, I’m overwhelmed by it as I hear my children say ‘what would we do without you mom’.

Hope.
I feel it when I think about the future.
Hope, that my children will grow up knowing how it feels not to be neglected.
Hope, that my parents opinions will one day be corrected.
Hope, that one day I will finally be accepted.