There is a beach at the corner of my apartment. Perched on a cliff overlooking the ocean is an old bench, its wood smoothed by countless seasons.
I come here every morning. There is a gentle miracle at dawn, so subtle that it seems untouchable. The air is crisp and cool, carrying a faint scent of salt and seaweed. Moments like this, delicate and fleeting, allow me to reflect and find inner peace.
I walk along the cliff-top path beside a row of nearby houses. A man is tending to his garden, watering some flowers. It reminds me of my grandfather and the flowers he grew during my childhood, watering them in spring and jumping around when they finally bloomed.
My grandfather said, "We are not just seeds." "We believe in them!"
Whenever I think of the good times in the past, I can't help but smile. When life is free of endless responsibilities and deadlines, it returns. When the biggest things...