Lost

Someday, I'm going to get lost in a strange city. I'll sleep in public bathrooms, and be reminded of the reasons my father is a hero. Maybe I'll look through dumpsters to find things to sell in a pawn shop. During the day, I'll sit calmly on a park bench, letting the sun restore me, and I'll imagine I'm my mother, sitting in her garden; happy to be alive in a world of sunshine.
My clothes will get ragged, and I'll have to wash my hair in a bus station sink. I'll be hungry, but I'll know how to feed myself. It won't be the first time I couldn't eat. Hopefully I'll have a camera, and hopefully it won't get stolen, and I'll take pictures of neon signs and big, strong men carrying their children on their shoulders. I'll want to call my father, because he's a hero.