This is a good week to start another weekend-engagement concept initiated by sir 
For this week, there are four topics that we can choose from, and it depends on us how we can expound on the topic according to our wit, taste, and art. On the other hand, I chose the fourth topic since it was the one that caught my attention well. The concept was about the Shared Weekend with questions stating,
A homeless military man.”
A loud, earsplitting karaoke machine was loosened by one of his neighbors. He was fast asleep, dreaming and fantasizing about the wealth he had amassed as a result of his dream. His life began as a poor farmer struggling to make ends meet on a daily basis below the poverty line. They were living in an old, wooden house that had been built three decades ago. It was not the life he desired for himself, so sleeping provided an opportunity to escape reality. No, it was a nightmare, not reality.
He jumped off the bamboo bed, stretching his arms and legs in preparation for the day's activities. After a couple of years of learning online, this is the day when the young man will return to school and practice. He was looking forward to the new changes and seeing old and new friends. As is customary, boiled sweet potatoes and boiled cassava were served on the table for breakfast. His thoughts were screaming, grunting, and wanting to leave home without eating breakfast, but he had no choice.
While tucking his sleeveless shirt into his pants, he saw the image he was ashamed of. The face of poverty clings and gnaws at his form. He closed his tearful eyes, hugging his old, wrinkled uniform, which had been passed down from his older brothers. The young boy's resolve was growing stronger, ready to brawl and twist fate if necessary. He left home without saying goodbye or announcing he'd go to school for practice. Furthermore, no one will ever listen to him.
The piercing noise of the busy road on Casanueva Street, teeming with street fighters, reveals the true face of the underprivileged. He was walking down the street, face down, trying to blend in with the crowd. However, a loud bang on his shoulder jolted him out of his reverie. An elderly man in his 60s lay on the ground at his front. The five plastic bottles splattered on the road, the coins scattered, and the elderly man appeared agitated. The young boy apologized after assisting in the collection of the coins.
The old homeless man invited him to his hideout, which was not far from the busy street. He was hesitant at first, but because he had offended the old man, he accepted the invitation anyway. A plastic tent with scrap wood supporting the walls to keep it from collapsing. There were no nails, screws, or anything other than pure tie-knotted rope to hold the wood together. The old man offered him a cup of water and a biscuit and invited him to sit. Without giving it a second thought, he said the sincerest gratitude, followed by an apology.
"You, the younger generation, are apologetic for the small things. Feeling sorry for what happened and am deeply affected by nonsensical and truly emotional issues. Have you forgotten that you have your own will, rights, and potential in life?" was a powerful line that came out of nowhere from the old man. "Excuse me, sir, but what do you mean, we are what?" the young boy inquired. "Look at yourself. You're not paying attention. Even though the truth is right in front of you, the validation you seek, and the riches you actively sought, are not a chance. It will come to you through your character."
"Ha! I’m not following what you said, sir. I’m aware of the reality that I am a poor boy born in the slums of unprivileged people. What’s wrong with desiring to be rich? Everyone knows that money is power, authority, and freedom." The boy started to lose himself, gripping hard the cup of water. "The riches of the world don’t start with money; it starts with a clean heart. You, poor boy, have a misconception about being rich and poor. Your desire to get rich will not end. It bounds nothing but a deception of the truth of this world. It grips your soul, ties in a black, poisonous chain, and as long as it has nourishment that comes from you, it bounds and feeds."
"This world is unfair, sir! Look at you. You are homeless and living with this poor quality of life. You have no one caring for you, no one who can look at you when you’re sick, and people are disgusted by you. Have you cared not an inch about it?" He dropped a direct personal question. "The quality of life will never be based on how important you are to people, but how much you care for yourself regardless of what other people think about you. I may be alone physically, but I do not feel lonely, unloved, or an outcast. You know why, little boy? It is because when you realize and reach a certain point in your life, what matters most at the end of the day is that you know your value and worth as an individual."
"I-uh, I have to go now. My school practice will about start in 30 minutes. Thank you for your invitation and time!" He was about to leave when the old man held his bag to stop him. "Young boy, life is not about getting what you want to satisfy your desires but fulfilling your true dreams to achieve true happiness and contentment in life. You shall never forsake your family because you are born below the poverty line. You are blessed, gifted, and planted with overwhelming potential, so use that as a driving force to become what you envision for yourself." The old man let go of his grip on his bag and pushed him away. "Go now! Sail the thunderous, wavy oceans and meet me at the end of the peaceful shore." The young boy waved his hands, smiled self-consciously, and he knew that his life was about to start anew.
