It was on a cold winter night that I knew my mother was dying. I travelled miles from home to spend the last night with her. I sat right next to her sick body, reading her long-loved books. It was one of the most difficult and painful times in my life. After she died, for many days, I stayed alone in her room, with a lonely and empty heart. Everything was in silence.
But one evening the silence was broken. I heard crying outside. I opened the door to find a little dog on the steps. He was thin and poor. I brought him inside and fed him with some fish, and then he fell asleep.
The next morning, I learned that the dog's owner had moved out, so the little dog was there all alone, just like me. As I walked back to the house, I tried to work out what to do with him. Taking care of something seemed like the very last thing I wanted to do. But when I opened the door, he ran to me and jumped into my arms. It was clear that he didn't want to go anywhere.
When the time finally came for me to return home, I had to decide what to do with him. There was no way I would leave without him. From then on, things grew easier. With him around, time seemed to pass much faster.
Five years has gone since my mother died. Over the years, many people have said how nice it was of me to save the dog. But I know that we saved each other. I may have given him a home but he gave me something greater.
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