The water assuaged. The storm was over. Littered on the streets were whispers of devastation. The wreck remained, and so did the victims.

The survivors had a chance at fresh start. Those families who had their lives where better off. Even amidst sighs, smiles were etched on their lips.

" I miss mommy and daddy." Sochi said, lowly and worn out.

I did two. After all, I was just a nine year old. 

We joined the streets with other children like us. Begging to get by every day. Eventually, relatives swooped them off the streets one by one until the numbers were down to Sochi and I.

The headmaster of our school took us in until they could connect anyone from our parent's side.

It took awhile, but someone appeared. I recognised father's sprint in his steps. Even Sochi could tell he had something in common with us.

Uncle Eze made sure we were comfortable. The comfort he couldn't provide, he made sure his little TV did.

Then came the day I was reminded of my loss.

The children at school embraced their parents as they arrived for the PTA meeting.

Sochi and I were stranded like the night father left us never to return.

At the end of the meeting, I was sobbing on my desk when Uncle Eze walked in.

" You should be proud. Your father was a good man." He said.

" You and your brother are only orphans in name. I assure you. If words get to our village, so many families will want to raise you." He assured.

The gloom was lifted. 

I never felt more happier than that day. It meant a lot to me. I never expected my uncle  to show up, but he did.

I slept well for the first time in weeks since the flood. It felt like father had returned for a moment. Beyond that, I was certain that even in heaven, our parents were watching over us.

Years later, I graduated from University with a perfect grade. Uncle Eze and Sochi were there cheering for me. You know who else I felt was there? Mommy and daddy.

Our parents gave us a chance. We had to make it worth their sacrifice, even though life was not the same without them.