Home coming

Junior highly commended

Amanda Honan
St Joseph’s Community College, Kilkee

IT was a cold foggy morning, in Sheriff Street, Dublin. I lay on the park bench too stiff to sit up. It had been a cold wintry night. I just lay there in silence glaring at the sky, there was nobody in sight. It was so peaceful.
I began to wonder what my mother and sister were doing. My father, the coward, left when my mother, Helen got pregnant, leaving her to raise me on her own. When he passed away, I didn’t cry because I didn’t have feelings for a stranger. My sister, Mary and I get on really well even though we have different fathers. I left home because I wanted to do my own thing but I didn’t think it through, I really missed my family.
It started to rain so I got up and made my way over to the bus shelter. Every step was a struggle. I was freezing with the cold. There were about 10 of us huddled under this small shelter. I was standing there starving and vulnerable. I recognised one of the men standing beside me, I think his name was Bug; we used to busk on O’Connell Street. He would sit on the other side of the street. I nodded my head at him to signal a hello, I was too tired to speak. As the rain fell it made a loud thudding noise, I watched it splash off the ground and flow down along the edge of the footpath. We pushed and shoved each other trying to keep our space.
I was dressed in a white hooded jumper that was now a kind of black colour and frayed jeans held up by a piece of string. They were the only clothes I had left. The others were stolen by other homeless people. The clothes used to fit me perfectly but I had lost so much weight, they just hung off me.
Most days, I waited for restaurants such as the Cherry Tree to put out their rubbish and I would scrummage around looking for scraps of food. I would often go for two to three days without food, surviving on water from the public toilets. If I had had a good day begging I would buy chips or a bar of chocolate because they were cheap. What I wouldn’t do for one of Ma’s home cooked roasts.
The rain cleared off and the sun peered through the clouds above. I checked my pockets, I had 97 cents. I made my way to the phone box. I was going to phone my mother, I had been thinking of her a lot. As I walked past the tall buildings looking out at the busy street, I wondered what she was going to say. I reached the phone box, I opened the glass door, inside, there was a few names etched on the notice board above the telephone. I nervously picked up the phone; dialled the number. When she answered, I was so scared, my hands were trembling, my heart was in my mouth but I was reluctant to waste the money I worked so hard to earn!
“Hello,” I said in a gentle whisper.
She replied, “Is that you? Is that really you, Niall? Are you safe?”
At the sound of her voice, I just completely broke down in tears.
“Oh Niall, please stop crying! I have been so worried about you, please come home just tell me where you are and I’ll come and get you.
“Yes I am in Sheriff Street. I will meet you at the corner shop.”
I put the phone down, I was in shock. I thought she would have gone mental. I walked out of the phone box, closing the door behind me. I made my way to the corner shop. I was so hungry, my stomach grumbled loudly. I had not eaten any food for the past two days. I could not wait to get home but I was too weak to walk on. I had spent the last of my money on the phone call. I just needed something to give me a burst of energy. I pushed myself as hard as I could but I fell to the ground with a small thump.
I looked up. The sun glared into my eyes. I could vaguely see the corner shop ahead. I made it! I wondered if she would notice me. I was slouched down on the path, too weak to move. I was facing the ground. People were just passing me by like I was a piece of dirt. It was horrible, feeling like nobody cared. My awareness began to wane. I was thinking, “How did I get here”. I was getting on well in St Amanda’s until I went into fourth year. I fell in with the wrong people. I was fighting a lot with my mother. I just wanted to get away. I thought if I left, I could sort my own life out. That was six months ago. It had been the worst six months of my life.
Just as I opened my eyes, there she was standing in front of me, she looked so different, her skin a greyish yellow colour, she wore a black t-shirt that hung loosely off her shoulders and a pair of baggy jeans that were at least two to three sizes too big, her hair a dull black colour. She used to be a well-built sort of woman but now she was so thin.
It was great to see her. I hoisted myself up onto my back side. She just slumped to her knees and hugged me. She seemed relieved to see me. I felt so sorry for her. How could I have left them all on their own? We just stayed there for what seemed a long time, not saying a word to each other, my head resting on her shoulder, her hands clasped tightly around me and her heart was beating loudly. It was so nice to just give her a hug.
She eventually stands up, putting her hand out to help me up. She gives my hand a tug, trying to pull me to my feet, it does not work. I just fall back down. I crawl over to the bin by my side and I pull myself up, it is a struggle. We walk down Sheriff Street our arms around each other, stabilising ourselves and helping me to stay upright. As we move along this busy street, a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. The fog has lifted and the sun is now shining, bright.