The first sound I hear each morning is the rooster crowing outside our small house in Ethiopia. I open my eyes slowly, already feeling the emptiness in my stomach. My mother boils water to make a thin soup from the last handful of lentils we have. She gives most of it to my younger brother, who is still very small. I drink what is left and try to be grateful.
I walk to school with my neighbors, dust rising around our feet. The road is long, and sometimes dizziness makes me stop for a moment. I hold my friend’s hand when the weakness becomes too strong. Even so, I love reaching the classroom. Our teacher smiles at us, and for a little while, I forget how hungry I am.
During break, some students share pieces of flatbread. I feel shy asking for food, but sometimes they offer it without me saying a word. Their kindness warms my heart.
In the afternoon, I help my mother gather firewood. We talk about her dream of growing more vegetables when the rains return steadily. As night comes, I lie down beside my brother, listening to the wind. I hope that tomorrow brings fuller bowls and brighter days.