Another sweet morning of peace dawned. The sun's rays played on my face and made me fall asleep. Every day that begins in my country is becoming sweeter and more precious for me. This is probably because I have found the answer to a question I have been looking for for a long time…
Every year swallows are born on the porch poles in our yard. All morning long I listen to their songs and my sun goes down. When autumn comes, we say goodbye to them and we move from the porch to the house, and they fly south. Interestingly, in the south, in the countries where they fly, even if the weather is warm for a year or twelve months, they feel the breath of spring in our country and return to their beloved nest on the porch. Not in the south, on this porch the child opens. He makes them bigger and bigger. What is the force that motivates the birds to come back here every year? Why are they having a baby here? In any case, satiety is not the cause of satiety. After all, there is a living soul, and the Lord, who created it, provides for it wherever it is.
My uncle was a child that the whole neighborhood was proud of. When he grew up, the old people were very attached to him, saying that he would return to us after graduating from university. However, after graduating from the institute, my uncle could not control his desire to fly to wider horizons and went to another country to try his luck. Years later, they suddenly stumbled as they proudly roamed the streets of a distant land, gaining the status and prestige they wanted. Although his wounds healed quickly, he returned completely, realizing that he would find ointment for the wound in his heart only in his homeland. “I have never run and fallen in these bumpy, cobbled streets, and even though I did, I never got tired. It was only when I went to another country that I began to feel pleasure and enjoyment in my homeland every minute. I didn't fall down there, but I was very tired, very much, ”said my uncle.
Now as for the question that bothered me, it may seem simple to you. What is the homeland? How is your homeland? Where is he I looked for answers in many books. I knew that no book could teach me the happiness of feeling the Homeland unless I could find the answer to this question in my heart.
I wrote a story recently. I liked it very much, but I accidentally deleted it from the computer memory. I never kept what I wrote on paper. I believed in computer memory more. Then I was very sorry for this habit. I tried to recall what I had written, but every time I made a change, it became a "patch" on a beautiful dress, and I became more and more distracted, and the thoughts in my mind seemed to be in smoke and smoke. Then my brother brought two roses to my desk. She said her scent was calling out to my "inspiration fairies." I opened the window. Cool air and a gentle breeze blew into the room, which was filled with the hot summer air. The room was filled with the smell of flowers. Who knows what mountain flowers these winds have been stealing ?!
I looked slowly out the window at our yard. The full moon is reflected in the glistening water from the ditch. The leaves of the poplars at the edge of the yard danced with the wind, and the sparrows, who had been chirping all day, were resting in their nests in the branches of the trees. The locusts on the lawn and the frogs in the ditches are singing along to the "Evening Symphony." The evening took its place in the wonderful night. As I watched, I smelled the roses my brother had brought from my desk, and they were so fragrant that I began to have wonderful thoughts. I finally started writing…
That was the reason why I understood my homeland. I didn't know then what the thoughts in my memory were, what motivated me to awaken the feelings in my heart. No, I didn't know, I thought it was the scent of those flowers, but I realized that the scent of these flowers was in fact the inspiring good news of the motherland. Putting my incomparable country in my eyes, I feel its taffeta and love wherever I am. I feel it in the scent of flowers, in the bird's nest, in the wings of the wind, in a drop of rain, in every leaf of a tree, in every drop of water and every particle of sand, in the loving eyes and hands of my mother. The breath I take here relaxes my body. Every drop of water I drink gives life to my veins. Every spark of my heart sparks my love for him. The homeland is as sweet as the heart of our mother who gave us life, the homeland is as wide as the world, but it is in the pupil of the eye, the homeland is the source of life, it is in our hearts and souls.
