Returning home

The wind was blowing hard. It carried with it broken tree branches, brown leaves, and the smell of approaching winter. Yet despite the falling rain, I continued to walk persistently; stopping or giving up would have been pointless. I couldn't afford failure.

I've been walking my whole life. I walk in summer and winter, I walk in downpours and blazing sun. I've always been a wanderer. Sometimes I see animals, sometimes solitary houses, sometimes I see lakes and forests, but usually it's like this—the horizon, smooth and even, and around me emptiness and nothingness, only above me: sky, clouds, and sun.

People call me a "pilgrim." I'm not sure if that's the right term. Every pilgrim has a goal, toward which they persistently strive. I don't have one, or I haven't discovered it yet. Most likely the latter. I once met an old man on my way. He offered me a place to stay overnight in his house, and I accepted. He was lonely, lived alone, and needed someone to talk to. I, too, sometimes have an overwhelming urge to talk to someone. And although I meet people along the way, the best conversations are with myself—at least then I know the person I'm talking to is telling the truth, and I know how they feel. But sometimes that's not enough; a person is a complex plant that needs another person like water. I wondered why people don't fight for their lives. A plant stubbornly searches the soil for a drop of water, expanding its roots to find a life-giving drink, while a person prefers to wither. And they wither away from longing for love and another person, instead of fighting for what's most important in life. We talked about everything and nothing. The old man said many things, about the world, about people, about all of existence... But what stuck with me most were his words about purpose. He said that purpose is the task we set for our dreams. I have dreams, and my purpose is to find the end of my journey.

***

Evening had already fallen; the air, which had been quite warm earlier, had cooled. The frost slowly seeped into my body; I could almost feel my heart and the blood pulsing within it, sensitive to temperature, freezing. It was incredibly strange, because winter hadn't arrived yet. Maybe it was this area. I honestly don't know where I am; usually, I'm not interested in where I'm going, only in having the best time possible. I don't know where I've ended up, but the weather isn't the same in every country.

The wind was lifting clouds of dust, dirt, and sand from the ground; I'd already passed through the forest, so no leaves were flying in the air; anyway, in such a dense night, I certainly wouldn't have seen them. Another wave of wind hit me with incredible force. Now I just looked for a place to shelter from the wind and pitch my tent. But I saw nothing. No cave, no large rock, no tall tree. And besides, even if I had found something like that, I wouldn't have been able to pitch my tent in such a gale.

Suddenly, as if through a fog, I saw a house in the distance. I closed my eyes and opened them again slightly to avoid getting sand in my eyes. Sure enough, before me stood a house that I hadn't thought had existed before. Braving the force of the wind, I reached its door. It was a heavy wooden door; it seemed very sturdy, just like the outside of the house; it was unaffected by the strong gusts of wind.

I saw a brass knocker on the door. I grabbed it and knocked loudly, waiting for what would happen. I didn't think about who lived in this house; I preferred not to know. But who could live in such a remote place? However, in the current situation, I had no choice but to wait by the door, staring at the massive door ahead.

Finally, the door swung open, and to my relief, a pleasant woman's face appeared in the gap. She glanced at me, opened the door, and gestured for me to enter. I don't know why, but I tiptoed inside, as if on tiptoe, quietly.

"Well, I was waiting for you," the landlady murmured, leading me somewhere.

She was a slender woman, about the same age as me. She wore a long burgundy skirt, a white blouse, and a black jacket. Her elaborate black hair gleamed beautifully, and she moved with great grace.

I finally realized what this woman had said. Surprised, I asked the lady of the house,

"Erm..." "I didn't really know what to say—was she waiting for me...erm... madam?" I felt awkward, because I'd barged in like a complete stranger, and this lady acted as if she hadn't noticed.

She turned and smiled. Playful sparks danced in her beautiful, black eyes.

"I was waiting for you. I saw you struggling with the wind," she said, then smiled again. "You see, here," she said, her gaze sweeping over the walls of the house, "I don't feel the cold. I feel safe in this house, and I like it very much for that." But despite that, I could imagine how unpleasant it was outside. Not everyone sees this house; you saw it and came here. However, if you hadn't come, I would have come out and invited you in; I couldn't let you endure these discomforts." She smiled again and offered me her hand. "Adria, that's my name."

"And I'm Efrem," I introduced myself, and now the atmosphere had somehow warmed up. "I'd like to ask if I could stay overnight at your place? The weather outside is so nice... I can even sleep on the ground," I added hastily.

"My house has many rooms, you'll get one..."

"Efrem, just Efrem," I interrupted rudely, but that was probably because I wasn't used to the title "sir."

"Okay, Efrem, but I'll just call myself Adria," she smiled.

***

This house was amazing. From the very beginning—when I entered, I felt some kind of magical power in the air. Dust was floating calmly here, like some kind of magic powder. It wasn't unpleasant at all; it's a pleasant sign on the shelves that time is passing and the dust is settling. Besides the dust, there's another way of measuring time here, a more traditional one—a clock. It ticks quietly in the room. It's a very beautiful wall clock, quite old by the look of it. The rich decorations are striking, but not so much that they overshadow the beauty of the clock's chime. As it chimed, marking the hours, everything felt so light. Yes, that's a good description; I truly felt so light inside. As if I had no troubles, worries, or sorrows.

I've encountered magic before, but never anything so truly special. This house was permeated with the magic of kindness, warmth, and love. I truly want to stay here longer. I've been here for three days, staying to rest after a long journey. I don't know why I stopped here; I should have kept going, but I think I truly want to stay here.

It's an enchanted house that draws me in like a magnet. Everything here amazed me, yet captivated me at the same time. The interior may not be overflowing with opulence—just plain wooden floors, ceilings, walls. However, it's not the appearance that matters; it's the atmosphere that matters. Adria is a charming companion, and it's thanks to her that this house is so captivating.

***

A mouse had just scurried across the table. Happily hopping, it snatched a piece of cheese from the table and dodged under the broom. I wanted to say something to Adria about it;

this was the second time she'd snatched something from our table. I even looked up, but Adria just smiled and said,

"Come on, she's so cute."

"Yes, she just ate my breakfast," I replied, looking less than pleased

. "This creature, just like us, needs to eat."

"Come on, she's just an ordinary mouse.

" "In this house, I want everyone to live in harmony, together with the animals. And this mouse isn't so ordinary, a very nice, well-mannered mouse, polite. I often talk to her when we both have nothing to do.

" "Well, she's truly extraordinary..." I said, and we both smiled in agreement.

But it wasn't just a mouse that was prowling the house; there's also a charming cat. His name is Maciej, he sleeps in an armchair all day, refusing to chase a mouse away, even for fun. I like him very much, he purrs wonderfully. In the evenings, I like sitting by the fireplace with him and rocking to the beat of the fire. It's very pleasant.

For the first time in a very long time, I felt at home in this house. I love its floor, warm and pleasant, though made of ordinary boards, and its ceiling, with its corners adorned with fairy-tale spiderwebs. I've grown fond of the mouse, the cat, I've even grown accustomed to it, and now I can't fall asleep without the ticking of the wall clock.

I came here cold and exhausted, and I found a haven in this house. It's a place of respite from the world, a corner where the wind doesn't reach. This house stands, stands mighty, though small, and it gathers all the good things of this world within itself. The hum of commerce doesn't reach here, the newspapers don't bring the news. Here, time stands still, though the sand in the hourglasses keeps flowing. The earth has gone mad, people have gone crazy chasing money. One day, they will probably drown in an ocean of useless objects. They will only need love...

Fortunately, I found a place where there is peace, where there is love, where there is magic, magic so powerful that it can overcome what is evil within us. I was searching for my purpose in life, a place to go. I had no apartment, nothing, only my body and soul. I found an apartment, I found a wonderful house, now... my home.

You're probably wondering how to get there. To your home, your place of rest. I'll tell you, I found mine in another person. Your home is in YOU.