At the Gate

I was stopped at the front gate of the school after returning from a short, quiet walk in the park.

An older Italian student asked me why I was here. Why this place, this life. I found myself pausing longer than expected, not because the answer was complicated, but because it was so simple it felt almost unusable.

I knew whatever I said wouldn’t satisfy a Western way of thinking. It would invite more questions. Still, I didn’t have anything else to offer.

“I’m here because I like it here.”

That was the truth.

I like the simplicity of this life. The way days unfold without much negotiation. The understated kindness that seems to run through the school without needing to be announced.

I like that things are mostly reduced to right and wrong — and that when something is wrong, the answer isn’t discussion but practice. I like that opinions are usually kept quiet, perhaps because most people here understand how temporary their beliefs are. How quickly things can shift.

Sometimes the change is dramatic. Sometimes it’s barely noticeable. Just enough to let light fall on something that was previously hidden.

We stood there for a moment after I answered.
Then she nodded.
And we both moved on.