A Mother Of No Destination -

A young man, a traveler himself with a pack full of maps, sat beside her. "You’ve spent your life wandering, yet you’re still here," he remarked. "Didn't you ever want to arrive?"

That night, Elora passed away quietly. When the villagers found her, the trunk was gone. In its place was a single, new stone resting on her lap. It had no name on it yet, but it was glowing faintly in the moonlight—a final passenger ready for the next long walk. A Mother of No Destination

"A mother looks after her own," she whispered. "But who looks after those who belong nowhere? I carry them with me. As long as I am moving, they are still traveling. As long as I have no destination, they are never 'lost'—they are simply on their way." A young man, a traveler himself with a

Elora looked at the horizon, where the sky and sea were indistinguishable. "Arrival is an ending," she said. "But love is a continuous road. I stayed a mother to the restless, and in doing so, I was never alone." When the villagers found her, the trunk was gone

Elora stopped, her weathered face softening into a smile. "I am not going to a place," she said, her voice like dry leaves. "I am tending to the journey itself."