The man stroked his beard. He was looking at the white papers on his desk. His wrinkled and veined hand, which revealed the color of the wooden table, wandered over the surface of the papers. Then he gave a deep breath. He got up and lay down on his bed accompanied by the creaking sound of his chair. As the clock ticked down, he was looking at the intricately patterned wall opposite. His eyes were examining every detail and his lips were mumbling something.
There has always been something he wanted to do since he was a child. But he never had the courage to do it. Once he had planned and thought for months, and after a while he got discouraged and gave up. He was living in a house with a garden in a small town. In this town everyone would have known each other. Except for him. Because he hadn’t even set foot outside since he was born.
He had a routine that he did every day. He would wake up, eat, and write and read books. He had a routine that he did every day. He would wake up, eat, and write and read books. But lately he has been disrupting this routine. And he wasn’ t want to do it anymore. Today, when he woke up, he had neither eaten, neither had walked around the house or searched everywhere as if looking for someone. He was just laying on his bed and watching the walls. Then he straightened up and looked towards the window. He put both hands on his head with that heaviness and frustration of doing nothing all his life. He was all alone. As he moved on the bed, he heard a rustling sound. He slowly put his hand in his pocket. With questioning eyes he took the crumpled paper in his hand. He opened it and approached the paper to read. There was a number on the paper and a note that said “call me right now.” the old man stopped and thought. what was that note?
He got up to go to his phone in the hall. He could barely walk. His knees were weak. He went to the salon and grabbed his phone. Managed to read the broken handwriting on the paper then dialed the number. The phone rang, rang, and finally opened. He heard a voice. It was the voice of a little boy. The boy began to talk with joy. “Hi grandpa, you must have read my note! I put it in to your jacked while you sleeping. I live in the opposite house… I don’t have many friends, so I’m watching you from my window. Don’t you ever get tired doing the same thing every day? Wouldn’t you like to be friends with me? Shall we play together? ” The old man listened without interrupting the child, who is talking in a curious and excited way. Suddenly, a strange feeling occured in his heart. “Grandpa, are you there?” The old man came to himself. Is this feeling excitement? he tought to himself “I’ll be waiting for you in the park!!I hope you’ll come.” said the little boy and hang off the phone. The man put the phone back and saw himself in the mirror opposite. He was still in shocked. As he touched to his face he saw a man whose youth was unfinished, who became a slave to his mother’s frightening mind, and therefore spent years without going out. A senile man whose face was collapsed. And even though his mother died many years ago, he hadn’t even step outside because of his fear.
The old man was trembling and looking towards the door. His whole life had been spent decently between these four walls. He looked at the locks on the door and managed to approach the door with shaky legs. He put his hand on the door handle, thought to himself will he be able to make the step of his life? He lowered the handle of the door down. While his heart was about to burst out of place, he realized that the door was not even locked. Then he found himself in the outside suddenly. It was as if the weather was brighter than ever, the color had come to his veiny hands, his lips opened in surprise. He looked at the park opposite. He thought it must be the park the child was talking about. He took steps at first then steps turned into walking, walking turned into running. And finally he was not an old man anymore. His youth was running. The young man looked around with a big smile. No matter how much he runs, the path to the park got longer. He thought of his regrets, his fear for his mother and his innocent childhood. His body was getting smaller and smaller while tears were flowing from his eyes like a flood. And finally he saw the park approaching, continued to run with happiness while his body returned to his 9 year old body. His little feet had come many ways. Finally, he stopped and went to the boy, who was looking at him curiously. They looked at each other for a long time. “You have come…” said the little boy. The man whose body was old but whose soul was still a child answered. “I’ve come.”