Anonymous10

    "My Dad built this house with his hands in his 30s. 

    The place we would live was not always like this. It was difficult for us. My father was working three jobs to keep us healthy. I loved Ugali. It is my favorite food. Though, it never missed being on the table. He knew I liked it so much. My mother used to cook it with some vegetables and meat with a subtle smell that I could sense from my bedroom. My father used to work on the house most of the weekends. He loved working with the wood he would collect in the wildland on the other side of the river. With him working all the time, he never had time for family. 

    Today, it is different. I lit the fire outside the house with some old wood and dried grass I picked up today from my neighbor's backyard. I prepared Ugali. Mum prepared the meat cooked upon this fire. And while my Dad lays on the couch, I smile. From midday, till the sun meets the horizon, we eat. We talk and laugh. My mother is a good talker, always finding ways to keep up the interaction. I have experienced the weekends with and the weekends without my family. To have everyone here is a fortune that is not guaranteed in the future; that is not granted. I am blessed I still have the chance to live these moments. To feel the chills on my skin for the stories my mum would tell, to feel the warmth of the fire, of this family next to me. Today is a blessing. Tomorrow, we may have another story—the same people, different outcome, as it was no long ago. But today is about our joy—nothing else."

    We Still
    Alive

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