One of them said: "I was on my way back from school with my friend when it suddenly started raining heavily. Despite our efforts to walk faster to avoid getting wet, the rain was too heavy, so we sought shelter under the roof of a nearby shop.
The shop was very close to my house, which made me feel relieved, unlike my friend whose house was still far away.
At that moment, she smiled and said to me: 'Lucky you! Your home is here, but I still have a long way to go.'
I didn't know whether to feel relieved that my home was close or sad for my friend who hesitated to move forward, fearing her clothes would get soaked.
What saddened me more was my inability to invite her to our house until the rain subsided, as our house was not luxurious enough for me to invite her without feeling embarrassed. The house was in poor condition, and the walls were worn out, especially after this rain.
Surely my mother had placed buckets around the house to catch the raindrops leaking through the cracks in our ceiling.
After my father was injured at work, he could no longer fix the ceiling for us. I hesitated a lot before inviting her; I was nervous, tense, and very embarrassed. I knew she was my friend and wouldn't mock our house or its cracks. She would understand and pretend not to care, but her mother would ask her about it, and she might tell our other friends as well. Some would mock me secretly, while others would pity me.
All these thoughts kept circling in my head, preventing me from inviting my friend, who was probably waiting for me to invite her. She eventually tried to leave after losing patience, and I couldn't even stop her!
Then, the door suddenly opened. It was my mother, who had been watching for my return in this rainy weather. She invited us inside without hesitation or embarrassment, welcomed my friend, and asked her to join us for lunch. She had baked delicious bread that my friend couldn't resist. During the meal, my mother asked her for her mother's phone number to let her know that she was at our house, thinking she might be worried. My friend's response was:
'Don't worry, Auntie, I'll tell her when I get home.'
'But she will worry if you're late!'
'She won't know I'm late; she's not here, so don't worry.'
'Ah, I see. She's at work.'
'No, she's at my grandfather's house.'
She said this as tears welled up in her eyes, which she quickly hid with a sudden smile while praising my mother's bread, saying she had never tasted anything like it.
My mother's questions bothered me, so I stopped her, as it was clear that my friend was hesitant and afraid to answer. What bothered me more was my friend's situation. It seemed she was away from her mother due to problems with her father, maybe even their divorce, yet she didn't tell me about it. Perhaps she, too, felt ashamed of the cracks in her home and chose to hide them for fear of being mocked or pitied, so she kept her answers short and evasive.
That's when I realized that our house wasn't the only one with cracks as I had thought. All houses have cracks; they all leak water, either from their roofs or onto their pillows. Everyone has their way of hiding them and choosing the right time and people to reveal them. Since she chose to remain silent, hoping things would return to normal, I respected her decision and didn't ask her about it. She, too, didn't ask about the cracks in our house or hint at them.
More than that, over time, she made me love our house and not see any flaws in it. Her joy in visiting us that day and her love for my mother's bread, which opened her appetite, satisfied her hunger, and filled her heart with the family warmth she was missing, changed me a lot. I began inviting her to our house whenever we were caught in the rain, when the flowers in our small garden bloomed, or when my mother baked delicious bread to brighten her day.
I invited her and others without hesitation or embarrassment because all houses have cracks, whether hidden or visible. Despite its many cracks, our house has enough love and beauty to make every heart fall in love with it and feel at home within its walls. It holds the warmth of all the homes in our city.
The lesson: Yes, all houses suffer from internal cracks, perhaps small or large. But family breakdown is much harder to bear than cracks in the walls and ceiling.
A house filled with love, contentment, and warmth, even if made of wood, is far better than the mansions we envy from the outside, without knowing what lies within them.
So, blessed are the homes filled with love, contentment, and satisfaction. Houses are not just walls, bricks, and ceilings, but souls that dive into their sorrows and joys. We do not know the state of each other; some have lost their way."