Our Scars
It's December and Christmas celebration is in the air. I cross through Four corners every day on my way to work. And every day there's something different about it.
First it was the huge Christmas tree the nice Papi Soliu puts in front of his biscuit store. He gives me extra fried biscuits whenever I patronise him and he makes Jokes I sometimes don't understand. He says everyone can put something on the tree.
The Mechanic guy on the left has blue light surrounding his entrance, I see it
dazzle at night on my way back. I call him the Mechanic guy because I don't know him. I don't have a car and I have no reason to visit his shop.
The territorial homeless woman goes around with Christmas blings on her neck, she even has a wreath on her makeshift cardboard home. I smile everytime I see her. She doesn't.
And on the road along four corners, was a podium with remembrance letters and flowers for the heroes that lost their lives while protesting for their human right. It's a yearly tradition now.
I stand in front of the podium for minutes, reading through names. Proud and Bold.
They are not here, but they did it! We did it!
"Hi,will you like me to assist you"?
The stranger said pointing at my wheelchair.
"Oh, thank you." I replied smiling.
"Have got it covered," I replied.
He smiled back at me and went his way.
Prompt: Four Corners
The 5 minutes daily freewrites prompt, courtesy of 
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