Toward the Museum

Smith Gregson looked at Grandpa in silence as he was opening an old cabinet with great affection. Smith Gregson silent. What could be the reason? Perhaps it was the mysterious atmosphere there or the magic inside this library that he was unable to express his curiosity in words. He kept looking at Grandpa, in whose hands was a book, the cover of which seemed very old.

Grandpa gently placed it on the table and sat down quietly in the large chair in front of it. He gave a glance at the one who was watching silently.

"Smith , my son, come and sit down." The chair in front of Grandpa was a brown-coloured one, beautifully crafted. Smith's sat down quietly. Every piece of furniture in this library was antique, very old but beautiful, so much so that time seemed to stop here, and he sat in silence, trying to savour the moment. There was something he was feeling there, but he was unable to express his feelings in words.

Grandpa was silently looking at him. "Smith, my son, what are you thinking?" Smith looked at Grandpa, and it felt as if Grandpa was penetrating deep into him, looking at him so intently.

"There are many questions," smith said after a long silence.

Grandpa took a deep breath. It felt as if all the ancient books in the library were listening to them, and every thing was wrapped in a mysterious aura.

Grandpa said, "I want to answer all your questions, but before that, let me ask you, who are you?"

Smith looked at Grandpa, puzzled. This was the very question he wanted to ask Grandpa, "Who are you?" For a moment, he was silent, looking at the library, and it seemed to him that even the books were like the eyes of many people who were looking at l Smith .

Grandpa was surprised and asked, "This is also my question - who are you?"

Smith replied, "No, I don't know. We both seem to be hiding something from each other. Tell me, who are you?"

Grandpa laughed softly and said, "This is your name, not mine. So then, who am I?"

After a few moments of silence, Grandpa slowly said, "I am Liza's grandpa, only Liza's. But you all are dear to me, just like Liza and Jake."

Smith interrupted, "But that is not my answer. That is your relationship with Liza and Jake. I think my son, we are both searching for the word that defines who we are, and your search is about to end."

Smith was confused and said, "I don't understand."

Grandpa placed an old, unopened book in front of Smith and said, "Look at this book. It has not opened yet. No, no, there is no key to it."

When Smith examined the book, it opened on its own. Grandpa stepped back, saying, "The book opens, but no one can read it."

Grandpa explained, "Listen,

Smith . I don't know what secrets this book holds, but the most special thing is that it opened by itself, just like turning a page. But the real problem is, can you appreciate the pages of this book?"

He then asked, "In other words, can you read what is written on its pages?"

Smith looked at the book. The pages were very old, with faded words, but not so old that he couldn't read them.

Smith replied, "Yes, I can read them. There are some strange letters written on it. If I want to study them, I will need some time, as some words are faded."

"And do you know one more thing, you laughed when you told me that the pages of this book look completely blank to me, there is nothing written on them."

"I don't understand."

"This is the secret of this book - the pages are completely simple for me, as if nothing is written on them. And you know what the biggest secret is, Liza's father. I have often seen him writing in this book, but when I opened this book after he left, its pages were completely simple, as if no pen had ever touched them. And today, only you are able to read it."

Grandpa took a deep breath.

"I had shown this book to some people whom I thought were very wise. I felt that perhaps I am getting old, and that is why my vision is not strong enough to read it."

"So you were considering the words on it as an illusion of your vision," smith said seriously, his face deeply thoughtful.

"So my coming here was pre-planned, and you used Liza to bring me here."

"Don't bring Liza into this, she has no knowledge of this incident."

"I don't believe you when you say this book is magical and only I can read it. So tell me, what do you mean by that? And you also know very well who I am, so tell me, Grandpa, who am I?"

Grandpa sat in more silence.

"Smith , my son, listen to me."

"I'm here to listen to you."

He sat down in front of them with seriousness, as if a confrontation was about to happen between the two, their eyes locked, but there was something very different in their eyes - as if one was trying to find out something, and the grandpa's eyes were trying to tell something, a confrontation was about to happen in which the old pages would be unfolded.

"Liza has nothing to do with this matter, and I didn't even know that you ,Smith Gregson , would come to complete the old stories. This book that you have is like a diary of Liza's father, and I myself don't know what is written in it."

"I understand, but Grandpa, tell me one thing, I will believe every word, in fact, I am already believing every word of yours. Just tell me, when I came to this farmhouse, I felt as if I was in my own home, as if I had a very old connection with this place, as if I was familiar with every corner of it, as if there was a touch hidden in its walls and doors that I was aware of. I can walk in this house with my eyes closed, I can tell which corridor leads where. Why is that?"

"That's because, my son, this is your own home."