Today was a very important and a fantastic day. Today was the day I was found, I was re born. I don't think I would ever forget it. In fact, it would be disrespectful to forget. I don't think I would ever be able to show old lady Mickens how eternally great full I am to her. I wish I could, but it was impossible.
I carried the basket of baked muffins out of my apartment. It seemed strange for a boy of my age, stature and facial expression to be carrying muffins. Most people who met me thought I was a mobster. It was rather funny. I really would never think of such things, not after what Miss.Michens did for me.
My mind slowly wondered back into time, when I was a three year old little boy, sitting by my father’s grave. I could barely remember anything. I couldn't even remember feeling sad.
He picked me up with his gruff hands, and dragged me away from the spot, my uncle, that large burly man with as much sense of a gorilla. His house smelt like rotten fish and alcohol, and was painted this strange shade of vomit.
I can't remember why, perhaps it was to feed his raging alcohol addiction, or perhaps it was to pay his rent, but he gave me away to a farmer, for a some of five hundred dollars. At that time, I had no idea it was illegal to sell children, at that time all I could think of, was how I was worth only five hundred dollars. That was the worth of my freedom, of my existence.
The next five years were a blur. I don't like thinking about them, the beatings, the constant chiding. The word "worthless" was the kindest word thrown at me. I lost my humanity; I lost all love and care. I lost the very innocence of childhood.
I stayed there till I was 9...till that day. The farmer forgot to lock the shed in which I slept. I slipped out, and ran like the wind. I remember the howling of the farmer's blood hounds, the adrenaline pumping through my body. I remember the fear.
I landed up in this small city. I landed up alone, cold and hardened by pain. I was so lost, both physically and mentally, till I met Old Lady Mickens. I originally meant to pick her pocket. She seemed to be in her late fifties, which seemed quite old, so I thought her a good target, well, I was wrong. She was a feisty, athletic woman, or perhaps I was a bad pick pocket. She grabbed onto my hand, and whirled me around. I remember her words clearly. "You want my money do ya?" That was the beginning of a surprisingly wonderful relationship!
She was a hard woman, but kind. She gave my food, shelter, and even schooled me, in return for the work I did at her shop. Soon, she became like a grandmother to me. She cared for me and dressed me, and even though I tried to steal from her a number of times, she believed in me. I don't think I can ever betray that belief she had in me. She taught me right from wrong and she made me the person I am today.
I got a job in a shop not to far from Old Lady Mickens, and had enough money to buy myself an apartment. I started living alone last year, but often visited that old lady I was so fond of. But Miss Mickens had fallen sick a month ago, so I want to pay her back by taking care of her as well as I possibly could.
I tentatively walked into her small room. She lay pale and thin on her bed. She smiled weakly as I sat on my haunches by her bed side.
"Such a fine boy..." She commented stroking my cheek. "You'll be fine. Yes you will." She whispered.
"All because of you, Miss." I answered. She coughed a bit in an attempt to laugh. She squeezed my hand.
"Thank you." She whispered, as she shut her eyes. Her breath became slow. "Miss?" I asked. Her hand grew cold. He breathing stopped. Her eyes remained shut. I lowered my eyes and allowed the tears to briskly fall down my cheeks. It was bound to happen sooner or later. I’m just glad I was there to keep her company during her last moments. I left the basket next to her, and whispered, hoping that my words would reach her in that far away place. “No, Thank you, grandma Mickens.”