I’ve been in a shelter since birth and there’s no birthday cake today
I’ve been in a shelter since birth, and today, like every other day, there’s no birthday cake. My life began in this shelter, a place filled with the hum of voices and the shuffle of worn-out shoes. Birthdays are different here—there’s no festive decoration or joyful clamor that usually accompanies this special day.
The shelter has been my home, my sanctuary, but it’s also a place marked by a quiet routine. I watch others celebrate their birthdays with smiles and treats, their happiness a reminder of what I lack. Yet, as I grow older, I realize that these moments of absence have taught me something valuable. I’ve learned to find joy in simpler things: a kind word from a volunteer, a warm meal, and the camaraderie of fellow residents.
Today, as I look around the shelter, I see faces like mine—faces that have learned to find comfort in the midst of uncertainty. There’s no cake, but there is something equally sweet: the sense of belonging and support that comes from shared experience. It’s in these small, everyday acts of kindness that I find my own celebration.
I’ve been in a shelter since birth
So, while there may be no birthday cake today, there is something much more meaningful. It’s the warmth of a community that cares, a shelter that provides not just a roof, but a sense of home. And in that, I find my own reason to celebrate, not just today, but every day.
