The favourite child

I have no siblings,
And yet,
I am not the favourite child.
My sexual orientation is wrong,
The way I see the world is defective,
“What is this unconditional love you’re professing?”

I grew up in a small town,
In an even smaller country,
Where everyone is for themselves 
And fuck the rest!
I am not built that way,
This was clear after so many relatives
Tried to instil hate in me.

So now I am a nomad soul,
Searching high and low
For a place to belong.
I do have a secret, though - 
I feel like home everywhere on this Earth,
Except back where I was born …

I will write one funny story 
That will tell you everything you need to know about my family.
I was living in Portugal at that time,
My mother and grandmother decided to visit me.
The first interaction was at the airport,
At Starbucks.
You see, they give a coupon for a free drink
For every pack of beans you get.
I never get a drink there,
So I always try to pay it forward and
Give the little thing to someone behind me in line.
I forgot who I kept for company,
So I did what I always do:
Scan the queue for … I don’t know what,
But I always know it when I see it in their eyes.
I approach the chosen person and ask if they want a free drink.
As usual, they accept, smiling.
Who wasn’t smiling, was, however,
My grandma.
She was flabbergasted,
And asked me meanly what I did that for.
I explained my ritual,
But all she could think of was my loss.
I did not see it the same way,
I actually believe that I gained more.
I adore helping people, in every small way I can;
She tried to make me feel ashamed,
She tried her best to guilt me into not doing it ever again.
So I ended up helping homeless people instead!
Thank you for you advices,
I am better off on my own.