Sometimes I feel that I am a strange kind of person. Maybe it is because I always love my old things. My old clothes, my old notebook, my old memories… even my old habits. Many people around me change very quickly. They buy new things, follow new trends, learn new ways of living. But I don't know why my heart still feels comfortable with old things.
Maybe it is because old things carry stories inside them.
For example, in our village there is an old wooden chair in our courtyard. It is not beautiful anymore. The paint is gone and the wood has small cracks. But my father used to sit on that chair every evening after working in the fields. When I see that chair, I don't see an old chair. I see my childhood. I see evenings when we used to drink tea together and talk about simple life.
New things are shiny and attractive, but they don't always have soul.
Another thing I notice about myself is that my prayers have become very quiet. When I was younger, I used to make long prayers with many words. I would ask for many things. But now it feels different. Sometimes I sit quietly and look at the sky, and I feel that Allah already knows everything in my heart.
So my prayers become silent.
Maybe this happens when a person grows older or when life teaches some lessons. Words become less important, and feelings become deeper.
In village life we see this a lot. Old farmers don't talk too much. They sit quietly under a tree, watching the fields and the sky. But inside their hearts there are many thoughts, many memories, and many prayers.
I think human hearts are also like old houses in villages. From outside they may look simple or even broken. But inside there are stories of love, loss, happiness, and patience.
Sometimes we also remember people who are not around anymore. When we think about them, a strange peace comes into the heart. It is like loneliness becomes a little softer.
Maybe memories are Allah’s small gift to humans. Through memories, people who are far away can still live inside our hearts.
Life today is moving very fast. Social media, new technology, new lifestyles… everything is changing. But some people like me still move slowly like village roads. Maybe that is not a bad thing.
Because slow roads often lead to peaceful places.
And maybe loving old things simply means that a person has not forgotten where he came from.
In the end, I think it is okay if someone cannot easily adapt to every new thing. Hearts are not machines. They grow in their own way.
Sometimes silence is also a prayer.
Sometimes memories are also a comfort.
And sometimes old things hold the most beautiful parts of our life.
