Out of bed before the first stroke of the familiar bells, yet not much else was. I have been groomed by the highways and by ways these past few years. The lonely walks down barren streets, to wait on empty wind whipped platforms were just a distant memory... an unkindly reminder of my humble beginnings, my early struggles, and fear for my future and that of the ones I love.
Days like this make it all seem like dedication and love, but it is survival. Survival measured in organic foods, trips over seas and nieces spoiled. In the end we are are ruled by hope, mine now fueled by distant glimmers that hold promise for comfort. Comfort immediately broken by those who have fallen through the cracks, my nose pinched with the unfortunately familiar scent of those society has cast away.
Jack Frost isn't just interested with your nose; he will take any point to chill your core and break your will. The purpose of this long cold trek is to not become one of those filling the cracks. Instead I find myself finding comfort in the bootstraps, scarves and various articles handed down, now keeping the cold at bay.
In the end what people see is the office, the fancy title, and the new kicks. Before the office came hope, a plan by my parents, and support from loved ones. The fancy title was born out of debt saddled by my mother. And the kicks were paid for by countless weeks in lab past 1am, 3 hour trips from Kodak and a work ethic required to pay back the sacrifice made by others on my behalf.
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