The House That Forgot to Listen
Some distances are not measured in miles, but in the silence between hearts.
The house had never been empty.
Three generations lived beneath its roof. Two sons, a daughter, their spouses, grandchildren, and the ageing couple who had built it with more dreams than money.
Every room was occupied. Every cupboard was full. Every evening, lights came on, televisions spoke, phones rang, and footsteps echoed through the corridors.
Yet, sitting in his old wooden chair overlooking the courtyard, the father often wondered why a house so full of people could feel so empty.
He had spent his life ensuring his children would never have to struggle as he had.
They had grown into successful, independent adults.
But somewhere along the way, he wondered, had independence quietly begun disguising itself as self-interest? Have we become self-serving?