Going Home

She walked down the cobbled pathway towards toward her childhood home, she hadn’t been back in years and yet it looked just the same. The shiny cobbles the rain had washed and shined for her arrival, the blossom floating between the cobbles, knocked from the tree in the shower sparked memories of days gone by. A rainbow appeared to arch the ally down the hill to the small house where she had been brought up. Didn’t that signify a pot of gold, she certainly hoped so.

She was looking for herself, she was in search of what was constant inside of her, what was true. She had changed so much since she left the village, travelled the world and met so many people she felt that she had been moulded into something else completely. She wanted to find her essence in all the confusion of life and had felt a pull to return to where it began if she were ever to find the truth.

She wanted to find what was real, not just thought, fear or judgement but real and constant. She knew she had to come back to the village, experience the peace of the place and still her mind. She took a deep breath and slowly let it leave her body as she took a step closer to the house at the end of the lane.

Her therapist had asked her what in her life was constant and she hadn’t been able to answer. She thought it was something about who she really was and might be discovered in returning to where she had come from at the very beginning of her life. The place she had felt safe in, the place in which she had been allowed to be her natural and authentic self.

Now she knew she had to let go of yesterday and the city, let all the thoughts go past. Accept and let them pass, she did’t want to dwell on them, she didn’t want to loose track of why she was here. She looked down at her feet, connecting to the earth and step by step moved closer to home.

The gate still hung from the rickety post, she lifted the latch and pushed it open stepping onto the path. Flowers framed the pathway to the front door, smiling up at her as she passed them, welcoming her home. The door was still green, a slightly deeper shade but green non the less. She put her hand on the brass handle, feeling the warmth of the metal in her palm. She took another deep breath, opened the door and stepped through.

She was in the parlour, it was exactly how she had remembered although she didn’t want to think she wanted to still her mind. The same old comfy chair was in the middle of the room and she stepped towards it and sat, hands open on her lap. Her mind was still and her heart was open as she sat there waiting, watching and listening. She saw herself sitting, she watched as thoughts passed by in trickles, she let them go, detaching herself from anything outside of herself. For the first time in a long time she felt at one with herself, she wasn’t watching herself anymore she was connected to her true self, her essence. She felt love and realised she was love, love was all there was, love was her constant.  She was at one with the watcher inside, the self that accepted without judgment, she was home.

A breeze blew through her hair and she opened her eyes from her meditation and wiped the tears from her cheeks. She uncrossed her legs and stretched up with her arms, it was always good to go home and get away from the city.

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