Mom, why did you make this choice? We have everything we need, and youre alone out here, in that old house, in the middle of nowhere? Catarinas voice trembled with reproach, almost in tears.
Dont worry, dear. Ive grown fond of this land. My soul has been longing for peace for a long time Leonor Martins replied calmly, packing the last items into her suitcase.
The decision came without regret. Their cramped city apartment, shared by four her, her daughter, her soninlaw and her grandson could no longer accommodate anyone. The constant arguments between Catarina and Miguel, the slammed doors, the frayed nerves all weighed heavier than the walls themselves. And Tomás was already grown, Leonor realized: there was no longer a need for a grandmother to watch over him. Her presence had become a burden.
The inheritance from her own mother a wooden house in a village near Viseu at first seemed like a twist of fate. Yet when she saw the photographs, the abandoned apple orchard, the attic still holding childhood toys, she felt: this is where she belonged. Here lay peace, memories, silence, and perhaps something new. Her heart told her the time had come.
She arranged the whole move in a single day. Her daughter begged her not to go, eyes brimming with tears, but Leonor only smiled and brushed Catarinas hair. She wasnt angry; she knew the younger generation had its own life. As for herself, she had her own path to follow.
The house welcomed her with weeds and a broken fence. The roof sagged slightly, the floor creaked, and the air was thick with damp and abandonment. Instead of fear, Leonor felt resolve. She stripped off her coat, rolled up her sleeves, and began tidying up. By nightfall the lights were on, the scent of fresh cleaning and tea filled the rooms, and in a corner by the fireplace lay the books and crocheted blanket she had brought from the city.
The next morning she stopped at the village shop for paint, cloths and other supplies. On the way she noticed a man tending a garden across the street. He was tall, his hair silver, but his smile was warm.
Good morning Leonor greeted first.
Good morning. Are you visiting someone or settling in? he asked, wiping his hands on an old rag.
Im staying. My names Leonor. I came from Lisbon. The house belonged to my mother.
Im Rui Almeida. I live just opposite. If you need a hand, just let me know. Neighbours here look after each other; you wont be left short of help.
Thank you. Would you like to come over for tea? Im celebrating my new home and we can chat.
Thus began everything. They spent hours on the porch sipping tea with fig jam, talking about life. Leonor learned that Rui was a widower; his son had moved to Porto years ago, rarely called, and almost never visited. Like her, he no longer felt needed.
From that day on, Rui became a frequent visitor. He brought planks, repaired the fence, helped fix the roof, and supplied firewood. In the evenings they sat by the lamp, reminiscing about youthful days and reading books aloud together.
Gradually Leonors life fell into place. She planted a garden, sowed apple trees, and started baking cakes that drew the whole neighbourhood. Catarina called often, asking her to return, saying she missed her. Leonor merely smiled and replied, My dear, Im not alone. Im home. And for the first time in many years I feel truly happy.
So two solitary hearts met amid old walls, silent streets, and waistdeep weeds. Their story proved that its never too late to start over, and that an old house can hold a new life.
