We don’t know the future, not ever, but in July and August when the worst insecurities perspired from our uncertain glances, I pondered, you could be walking through LA neighborhoods and, for a moment, only hear a cheerful shout, “Hey, City Year!” from a kid walking home by himself because his mother is working long hours that day, and then you can nearly believe something lifting will happen, a humbling experience even the statistics others read on reports have no awareness of it. 

Call it serendipity or call it passion and drive that took you here, on an urban road, and still slowly takes you between days, that you try to catch your breath at each irrevocable moment with those- perhaps your- students. 

Yet, despite the interminable hours, this is ephemeral - in case you forgot. All of it, the schools, the children, communities, mentors, and friends will remain. In conjunction you can witness their indefatigable presence plastered 
on graffiti walls, sweaty faces, upturned hands, timid looks, rundown buildings and smelly corners. Just as you've carved out an experience wearing yellow, they've carved out an existence out of a muted sun.

Then, even if you are separate beings, for now, call it home. 

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