Justin Saint-Hilaire

I stepped out onto the dirty streets of my neighborhood, the air heavy with the weight of poverty and desperation. Life ain't easy in Port-au-Prince, Haiti, especially for a brother like me. At twenty-seven, I've been through the grind, seen things that would make your head spin. Violence ain't just a part of life here, it's the damn soundtrack.

But today felt different. Today, I had a purpose, something to drive me forward. After spending what felt like an eternity behind bars, I'd been given a second chance, a chance to make things right. I was working with this children's charity now, trying to make a difference in the lives of the little ones who had it even rougher than me.

I saw this kid sitting on a stoop, eyes dark and haunted, like he'd seen more than any child should. I knew that look all too well.

"Hey, little man," I said, crouching down in front of him. "You doing alright?"

He just shrugged, kicking at the dirt with his worn-out sneakers.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a beat-up soccer ball I'd picked up at the charity. "You wanna play?"

His eyes lit up, a flicker of hope in the darkness. "For real?"

I nodded, tossing him the ball. "Yeah, man. Let's kick it."

We spent the next hour playing, laughing, forgetting about the world around us. For a moment, it felt like we were just two kids, free from the burdens of poverty and violence.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, I felt a sense of peace wash over me. Maybe, just maybe, there was hope for this country after all. And as long as I had a hand in it, I was gonna do everything in my power to make sure these kids had a chance at a better life.