Surviving New York

I looked down at my numb, dirt-caked hands in shame as another carriage rolled slowly down the street. The sleek carriage held a man and a woman both dressed in elegant cloths, not a single wrinkle embedded in the fine material. Unlike myself, the woman sat tall and proud, her curls falling down her left shoulder delicately, and her rosy cheeks complimenting her snowy white complexion. My own ratty, auburn hair was tied back in tangles from weeks of not washing it, my dress was wrinkled, dirty, and had several tears int it, and my face had dirt smeared across it.

The woman looked at me with a mixture of pity and disdain. The man paid me no attention. The tall horses carried them down the busy street, each loud step echoing in my ears. Embarrassed, I turned around to get away from all the people. I took one step, and ran right into someone.

“Sorry,” I muttered, moving to the side to make my escape.

“S’okay... Hey, how old are ya?” the person grabbed my arm, catching me by surprise.

I looked up and met a boy’s dull blue eyes. He was a little taller than me, and maybe a few years older. “Twelve,” I whispered.

Amazingly, he heard my small voice in the loud, bustling street of New York. “Are you alone?”

I nodded, squirming a little under his grasp on my arm. He noticed and let go. “Abandoned?” he questioned.

I nodded again. He blew out a cold breath and reached his hand in his pocket and pulled out a small piece of bread wrapped in a slightly dirty handkerchief. He stuck his hand out, offering it to me. Just the sight of it made my mouth water, even if it wasn't all that much and was crumbling in his hand. The last I’d eaten was a soggy piece of cabbage someone gave me when I was begging on the streets two days ago.

“Not much, but all I can give you. I gotta keep some for my ma.” he explained, patting his other pocket that had a slight bulge from the food he kept there.

My hands shot out and grabbed the bread greedily. I had almost forgotten my manners. “Thank you,” I squeaked.

The boy chuckled. “Good luck to ya,”

He turned and walked away and I did the same. That night I went to sleep on the cold, hard floor of the slums, and the uncomfortable pain in mt stomach that always kept me up at night, did not come.

The next morning, I woke up early and started to make my way out of the crowded, dark slums and toward the already busy streets.

After a couple of hours standing on the street, begging, I had gathered a small amount of scraps that would last me the rest of the week if I managed it wisely. I stayed on that street for a little while longer, and during that time, a petite woman approached me. She was wearing a long, black dress and a black bonnet. I instantly recognized her as one of the Sisters I’d heard about in the slums. One night, I overheard some children whispering to each other about the Sisters who ran a strict orphanage here in New York.

When I found out about the orphanage, I decided I didn't want to go there. The way the children described the orphanage convinced me that I’d be better off on the streets.

The woman gave me a warm smile. My eyes widened and I scrambled backwards. “I... I don’t want to go!” I panicked.

“Oh, child, it’s alright. I want to help you.”

I bit my trembling lip. “Would you like some warm soup? It’s freezing out here.” she continued.

I shivered at the thought. I imagined hot and delicious soup sliding down my throat. I could not bring myself to decline her offer. Hesitantly, I nodded. She smiled brightly and took my small hand in her surprising warm, soft ones.

She tugged me down a few streets until we stood in front of a tall brick building. Once inside, a blanket of warmth settled over me. Looking around me, there were white cribs lined up against the walls, babies sleeping quietly in them. On the right was a staircase leading to the second floor and a kitchen beside it

Before I could say anything, she led me into the kitchen and sat me down. She walked to the stove where a large pot sat and grabbed the ladle to scoop me a serving. Within seconds, I had a boiling hot bowl a vegetable soup in front of me. The steam kissed my face, still slightly cold from being outside so long.

I thanked her, then devoured the entire bowl. She watched silently the entire time. After being served seconds, I was filled with warmth. I hadn't felt this full in such a long time.

“Full?” she asked.

“Yes,”

She grinned. “Good. Now, let’s get you cleaned up.”

I didn't protest.

She convinced me to stay much longer than I planned. She prepared a warm bath filled bubbles, then dressed me afterwards. I now laid in a small bed in a room with other girls. The Sister who cared for me kneeled down beside me and brushed my damp hair away from my face. She laid a light blanket over me, tucking me in tightly.

“Sleep well, child. You have an exciting journey waiting on the trains for you tomorrow.” she hummed, but her words didn't register in my mind.

My eyes fluttered shut and I snuggled into the blanket. I felt warm lips press against my forehead, and I felt complete. My stomach was filled with substance, my body was clean, I was out of my tattered clothing, and I laid in a comfy bed. In that moment, I was the happiest I’d been since coming to America.

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This is a historical narrative I wrote for school. It's based around a young Irish girl who came to America and was abandoned by her parents because they couldn't care for her anymore. She lives in the slums in New York. The orphanage that she goes to is The Children's Aid Society, where they took in abandoned children on the streets and took care of them. They would then send them on trains to farm families who are willing to take them in and give them hope for a better future.

Constructive criticism is appreciated!