PEACE IS THERE
Stepping onto the porch, I gently pushed open the small, charming wooden door. It let out a faint creak, as if already accustomed to being opened with such tenderness. The scent of aged wood, mingled with a hint of leaves from the garden, slipped through the crack in the door, carrying with it a strangely familiar feeling.
Inside, the gentle morning light filtered through a sheer curtain, scattering shimmering streaks across the wooden floor. The living room and kitchen flowed into each other, forming a space that felt open yet not cold, quiet yet not lonely. The curved sofa rested like a soft embrace, facing a coffee table—a block of raw stone that breathed of distant mountains and forests. I brushed my fingers lightly over its cool surface, sensing something primal, something sincere. Beside it, a rough plaster wall stood silently, like an old friend who needs no words yet understands completely.
The kitchen, just beyond, was as warm as a winter morning steeped in the lingering scent of tea. Oakwood’s aroma intertwined with the faint fragrance of lotus tea, painting a picture that made you want to slow your breathing the moment you stepped in. The cupboards were neat, the open shelves revealing rustic pottery bowls and plates—rough, yet endearingly so. In the center of the kitchen, a long dining table stood beneath a terracotta pendant light. I could already imagine the evenings here, golden light spilling over the faces of loved ones, accompanied by endless murmurs of conversation.
From the living room, a glass door opened to a small garden. An old star apple tree stood quietly, like a guardian of the home’s peaceful years. Beside it, the swimming pool lay still, its water clear to the bottom where white pebbles sparkled like fragments of sunlight fallen from above. A few large stones dotted the gravel path, as if they had been placed there long ago, waiting patiently for unhurried footsteps to arrive. In one corner of the garden, a low wooden chair nestled beside a small tea table. I touched its surface lightly, imagining a hot cup of tea already waiting—just a sip away from letting every worry drift away.
I stood still for a while, letting myself dissolve into this space. Here, nothing needs to be perfect—it only needs to be itself. Just as people sometimes don’t need to strive to become someone else, but only need a place to return to, a reminder that peace has always been there, right within our own hearts.
