Once there was a child who did not have a home. She did not have a mother or a father. She did not have a house, or a people. She was alone. She hid inside hollow trees, ate roots and berries. She howled with the coyotes at night and laughed with the ducks in the afternoons. She knew her name, for the wind whispered it to her. The wind called her Sharah, one who shares herself. Sharah loved to dance in the moonlight by the pool. She loved to admire the stars. One moonlit night she called up to Grandmother Moon, “Grandmother, can you please find me a home and my people, so that I may know where I belong.” Grandmother moon said nothing, but smiled upon this homeless child who had the courage to ask for what she wants. (To be continued.)
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