The marijuana-infused air was so thick it was nearly palpable amongst the bug-ridden mattresses and dust-coated floors. It was November 2022, and my family was evicted from our apartment which was barely afforded government loans. An underlying sense of hopelessness pervaded; my parents were unemployed, unable to pay back loans, and we were homeless and would continue to be so for over a month. It's strange to describe the circumstances positively, but my parents and I were happier than we've been in a while. By this point in our lives, it'd been months since my stepdad and I spoke due to continual, tumultuous arguments. Acting as the bridge between my stepdad and me, my mom desperately attempted to hold the family together, if not anything else. The room was cramped and its size emphasized the unventilated-air that required effort upon inhaling. Bumping into one another and starting the pattern of conversing once again was inevitable. Turning up the music, my parents and I went through two boxes of Swiffer-Sweepers polishing the floor and dusting every corner. All windows were opened to the maximum to ventilate the stuffy air. We found joy in the subtle things- a new ramen packet and my mom's amusing snores that would send my stepdad and me into a fit of giggles. The intertwining of our lives led us to notice things that were once left unseen due to the hectic nature of our lives- the sacrifices that we all made for one another began to be perceptible. I began to notice my stepdad leaving in the early morning for work and returning late into the night. I began to notice my mom putting great effort into maintaining the facade of staying strong. In their respective ways, my parents remained strong to instill hope. Likewise, my parents began to notice the countless capsules of pain-killers that I would go through to drown out the ache of my cavities. Hope is parallel to resilience, and was a powerful emotion my parents and I all felt in uniform. The yelling at 2 A.M. through the thin walls, the blank stares of alcoholics in the hotel elevators, and the fast-paced walking of my mom, who seemed to live in anxiety until we stepped into our hotel room. These things and more seemed to break down our morale, yet our hope grew conversely. Such difficulties brought out hope and endeavor that forced us to hang on despite our feelings of hopelessness and fear that this circumstance would be permanent. The hope that kept me going during this time was that one day, this would all be a memory on which we would only look back on. My parents demonstrated the action of giving it your all, even when you seem to have nothing left. I initially felt we had lost everything, but I was deeply mistaken. The future is alterable, bendable, and avoidable. During those days, I fought the growing pain in my mouth, heaved the heavy air, and prepared for SATs, AP exams, and online classes in hopes of early graduation. Hope was a discovery in which I was given yet another reason to fight so hard. I know that I will be the hope, change, and future that my parents and I all sought and ached for during that long month.