Hope

"Ms. Wong, someone got shot outside my house this weekend. I thought it was fireworks but then I heard my mom scream to get down. So I grabbed my baby sister and we got down onto the ground."

He looked at me as if he was just stating the facts, but behind the stoic face, I felt his fear and confusion.

"Does that happen a lot?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry." I didn't know what else to say. I learned to get down on the floor at the sound of gunshots 2 years ago. I was 19. He's 9.

I put my arm around him. "That's why you're working so hard... to get an education... so you can change things. In your life. In your family's life. In your neighborhood."

The tough exterior broke. Water glistened his eyes. He nodded his head and gave me a look of refreshed determination - a promise to me, but mostly to himself. "Yeah," he said in agreement.

I like to believe that, at that moment, his hope became a reality.