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A beautiful and meaningful true story (John migrates)

A beautiful and meaningful true story (John migrates)

 In the spacious courtyard of the house, John sat quietly looking at the clear sky, remembering his past. A short anecdote similar to a fictional story. John was born in a small village, the smallest in his area, and one holiday night last year, he was traveling by train from his big city back to his tiny village, which would now officially become his hometown. His events are short

He got off the train in the north of his village to eat a little food and get a quick drink before boarding the second train to head towards the south of the village, where his close friend's house was and his destination before looking for a house to settle in.

The station was busy and he had to wait his turn. When he got back to the train, he was still waiting in line, and when he saw the train coming, he ran as hard as he could, and although he got close to it, John was not young, so he could not jump into the train, so he missed it

He went to talk to the man at the station office and asked him: “Tell me, when is the next train to the south of the village?” The man replied with a cold face: “There is no one until tomorrow.”

John was shocked but accepted the reality and went to get his food and drink. He said to himself: “How ironic, the train did not miss me until specifically in the north of the village, where my father’s house is.” Then he paid for what he bought and sat down to rest while reading a short story before going to sleep

This was his first visit to his village after an absence of more than twenty-four years, but he noticed that the village station remained the same, as were the train times and appointments. The shape of the train also remained the same

Within twenty minutes he had left the station and was walking around the village. Walked past a number of beautiful new buildings. In the city centre, almost everything was different from what he had known as a child

After walking through smaller streets, he finally reached a large neighborhood, a neighborhood that held many memories. The old houses were as they were, and he looked at a small house across the street very carefully. The light was on inside, so he knew someone was home

He crossed the street, heading towards the house. It was a special house for him, bearing the number eleven, and he still has it. Twenty-four years ago, this was the house of his parents, his mother and father, whom he left without saying anything

Twenty-four years ago, John migrated from his village to the city after a sharp dispute with his parents, who refused his migration to the city and wanted him to stay with them in the village. While he was working in his former city, John married Miss Liz, a quiet woman who was twenty-two years old

The house they lived in belonged to her. Many people close to them saw that the two young men were not really getting along, but they loved each other as a couple. Their only problem, perhaps, was the house, or so John saw it

John still remembers that whenever they got into a discussion or argument, Liz would protest that the house was hers. In fact, John knew that, and everyone in their neighborhood knew that

She didn't have to say it over and over again, that's what John wanted and asked her not to do, but she didn't stop

He was happy to live in his wife's house, but he didn't want to hear the truth every day, and a year ago it kept happening often, whenever he argued with Liz she said the house was hers

One day, John had had enough, so he put his belongings in a large bag, put on his hat, and went to the door. Liz asked him in amazement, saying: “Where are you going?”

He paused for a moment, then answered calmly: “To my village.” Then he left, and Liz thought a lot that it was not difficult for Liz, perhaps because she was convinced that John was not a good husband for her, and she could live without him.

In the end, John went to the bank, took all his money, and set off for his village. The road was long and tiring, but what hurt him most was the end of his long marriage to Liz, the chapters of which were like a story

After he crossed the street to house number eleven, he stood there for a while, and then, after hesitation, knocked on the door. The door opened slowly and then stopped, and from an opening of only a few centimeters, a woman looked at John. The latter said nervously: Is that you, mother

As soon as he said the last word, the door opened wide, and his mother came out, hugging him tightly with tears streaming down her cheeks. She said, sobbing: “My son, John, I can’t believe it. Is this really you

John replied, smiling, feeling both happiness and sadness: Yes, that’s me, mother

The mother said, wiping the tears from her eyes: “Come in, my son. I missed you.” Then John entered the house he had left a long time ago. He sat on a comfortable sofa next to the fireplace. He knew the sofa and remembered the fireplace well, as this was where his father used to tell him a bedtime story in the past. He put his hat on the table

His mother quickly closed the door and sat next to him. He was dressed in black, like John. After a few minutes of silence, he asked his mother about his father, and she told him that he had died years ago. John was completely shocked by this news and burst into tears as he apologized to his mother and asked her to forgive him for leaving them all those years

The poor mother saw no reason to make her son more sad, so she told him that she had nothing but love for him and had forgiven him a long time ago, as he was her son after all. After they talked about many things, John went up to rest a little in his old room

John was a skilled potter and found work easily. A year later, in the present, he asked a friend to write to Liz, telling her that he would never come back. He continued to work as a potter in the village. He did well, the money he received was good, and he didn't have much to spend on it already

He lived quietly at home with his mother, working during the week and going fishing on the weekends, a comfortable and quiet life

the end

In conclusion, I hope you have enjoyed your time reading this story and its exciting and poignant events

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