Why Some Worlds Always Feel Like They Don’t Belong to You

How growing up poor made me see the world as something that always belonged to others

Taken by my mom at my my brother’s dorm room

This sunny weekend, something lifted my spirits.

I saw teenagers canoeing on the river in my town, spending time in nature, exercising their bodies, and being guided by a male coach who encouraged them to do their best.

It was one of those perfect Saturday days, filled with the first rays of sunshine after a long winter, when we feel the dampness evaporate from the ground and our bones.

Finally, we could smell everything—the warmth, the earth, the swiftly running river water—and even catch the scent of the wind, now warmer as it moved around us.

It was a peaceful morning on the first spring weekend, and everything seemed perfect in my small forgotten world.

Adults walked along the clear river, flowers blossomed, children stretched their legs, elderly people ventured out with their canes, and the air carried the aromas of the season just beginning.

But I was alone.

My husband wanted to stay home and rest after a week spent outdoors, and a friend of mine woke up too late, letting the morning slip away.