Nice to be home

It is a hot day. I walk through the shabby street, glowing like fire with the heat of the mid-day sun. My shirt is drenched with sweat, my throat is perched and I sigh, taking a glance at the soft-drink stall in the street corner. I walk, my destination is fixed, but I am just touching the waypoints. My heart is filled with hope, as I slowly inch towards my destination, which is still far away. At last I reach the last point of the day, I know my baby steps will make it. It is nice to be home.