Every Night I Carry My Little Brother to Sleep, Hoping Tomorrow Will Be Better

My name is Ethan. I’m 8 years old, and this is my little brother, Noah.
Three months ago, we still had a home.
Then our mom got sick, and everything changed faster than I could understand. Some nights we sleep under cardboard boxes behind old buildings because they’re the only walls we have left.
Every morning, I carry Noah wherever we go. When he’s hungry, I tell him stories until he falls asleep in my arms. When people walk past us, most don’t stop.
But I still hold up my sign and hope someone sees more than two homeless kids standing in an alley.